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RUT  LEDGE 


'"i;;' 
^ 

j  4 

Y  T 


BY  THK   AUTHOR  OP 


TWENTIETH  EDITION. 


NEW  YORK: 


LONDON:  WARNB  &  CO. 

il  DCCC  LXVI. 


EZai4ro4   ncc<.M.!ii>{r  u>  Act  o!  Conerew,  in  the   year   I860,  by 
DERBY  A  JACKSOX. 

la  tke  Cterk'i  Office  '«  tS«  District  Court  of  <h»  United  States  for  the  So«th«rn  Dtatrf^  i, 
V  ...  Yak. 


STACK  ANNEX 


T3 


R  1J  T  L  E  D  G  E 


CHAPTER  I. 

"  Heavily  hangs  the  broad  sunflower, 

Over  its  grave  i'  the  earth  so  chilly ; 
Heavily  hangs  the  hollyhock, 
Heavily  hangs  the  tiger  lily. 

TENNYSON. 

IT  was  thy  gloomy  twilight  of  a  gloomy  November  day ; 
dark  and  leaden  clouds  were  fast  shutting  out  every  linger- 
ing  ray  of  daylight ;  and  the  wind,  which  moaned  dismally 
around  the  house,  was  tossing  into  mail  antics  the  leaves 
which  strewed  the  playground.  The  lamps  were  not 
lighted  yet ;  of  visible  fires  the  pensionnat  of  St.  Catharine's 
was  innocent;  a  dull  black  stove,  more  or  less  gigantic, 
according  to  the  size  of  the  apartment,  gloomed  in  every 
one,  and  affected  favorably  the  thermometer,  if  not  the  ima 
gination.  We  paced  untiringly  up  and  down  the  dim  cor 
ridor — Nelly,  Agnes  and  I — three  children,  who,  by  virtue  of 
our  youth,  ought  to  have  been  let  off,  one  would  have 
thought,  for  some  years  yet,  from  the  deep  depression  that 
was  fast  settling  on  our  spirits.  In  truth  we  were  all  three 
very  miserable,  we  thought — Nelly  and  Agnes,  I  am  afraid, 
more  so  than  I,  who  in  common  justice  ought  to  have  par 
ticipated  deeply  in,  as  I  was  the  chief  occasion  of,  their 
grief. 

My  trunk  was  packed  and  strapped,  and  stood  outside 
the  door  of  my  dormitory,  ready  for  the  porter's  at- 


6  BUTLEDGE. 

tention.  In  it  lay  my  school-books,  closed  forever,  as  I 
hoped;  aud  souvenirs  innumerable  of  school  friendships 
and  the  undying  love  of  the  extremely  young  persons  by 
whom  I  was  surrounded. 

From  them  I  was  to  be  severed  to-morrow3  as  was  ex 
pected,  and 

.  "It  might  be  for  years,  ani  it  might  be  for  ever," 

sis  Nelly  had  just  said,  choking  up  on  the  last  sentence.  I 
did  feel  unhappy,  and  very  much  like  "  choking  up  "  too, 
when  I  passed  .the  great  windows,  that  looked  into  the  play 
ground,  and  remembered  all  the  mad  hours  of  frolic  I  ha<? 
passed  there  ;  when  I  took  down  my  shawl  from  the  peg 
where  it  had  hung  nightly  for  five  years,  and  remembered, 
with  a  thrill,  it  was  "  the  last  time  ;"  when  the  lid  of  mj 
empty  desk  fell  down  with  an  echo  that  sounded  drearilj 
through  the  long  school-room ;  when  I  thought  "  where  ] 
might  be  this  time  to-morrow,"  and  when  Agnes'  and 
Kelly's  arms  twined  about  me,  reminded  me  of  the  rapidly 
approaching  hour  of  separation  from  those  who  had  repre 
sented  the  Avorld  to  me  for  five  years— whom  I 'had  loved 
and  hated,  and  by  whom  I  had  been  loved  and  hated,  with 
all  the  fervor  of  sixteen.  The  hatreds  now  were  softened 
down  by  the  nearness  of  the  parting ;  all  my  ancient  foes. 
(and  they  had  not  been  few),  had  "  made  up  "  and  promised 
forgiveness  and  forgetfulness  entire  ;  and  all  ancient  feuds 
were  dead.  All  my  friends  now  loved  me  with  tenfold 
the  ardor  they  had  ever  felt  before ;  all  the  staff  of  teachers, 
who  had,  I  am  afraid,  a  great  deal  to  forgive,  of  impatient 
self-will,  mad  spirits  and  thoughtless  inattention,  were  good 
enough  to  forget  all,  and  remember  only  what  they  were 
pleased  to  call  the'  truth  and  honesty  and  courage,  that 
in  the  years  we  had  been  together,  they  had  never  known  to 
fail. 

Tbey  little  knew  how  their  unlocked  for  praise  humbled 


KUT  LEDGE.  7 

me  ;  and  how  far  more  deeply  than  any  reproach,  it  made 
me  realize  the  waste  of  time  and  talents  that  I  had  to  look 
back  upon. 

So,  most  unexpectedly  to  myself,  I  found  that  I  was  going 
ofi"  with  flying  colors ;  that  all  were  joining  to  deplore  my 
departure  and  laud  my  good  qualities ;  and  that,  from  being 
rather  a  "  limb  "  in  the  eyes  of  the  school,  and  a  hopeless 
Binner  in  my  own,  I  was  promoted,  temporarily,  to  the 
dignity  of  heroine  at  St.  Catharine's. 

It  was  with  a  very  full  heart  that  I  remembered  all  this ; 
and  deeper  feelings  than  I  had  known  since  my  childhood 
were  stirred  by  the  kindness  I  was  certain  was  as  unde 
served  as  it  was  unexpected.  But  such  a  future  dawned 
before  me,  that  tender  regret  struggled  hard  with  giddy 
hope  for  the  mastery.  In  almost  every  girl's  life,  leaving 
school  is  a  marked  and  important  event ;  and  imagination 
has  always  a  wide,  and  generally  well-cultivated  field  for 
its  powers,  even  when  home  and  future  are  as  certain  as 
things  mundane  can  be.  But  in  my  case  there  Avas  so  much 
room  for  dreaming,  so  much  raw  material  for  fancy  to  work 
up,  that  a  tamer  and  less  imaginative  child  than  I  was, 
would  have  been  tempted  into  castle-building.  The  sad 
event  that  five  years  before  had  placed  me,  a  stunned,  be 
wildered,  motherless  child,  in  the  midst  of  strangers,  had 
largely  developed  the  turn  for  dreaming  that  such  children 
always  possess.  The  sympathy  and  love  that  God  provides 
for  every  child  that  is  born  into  the  world,  withdrawn,  they 
turn  "  not  sullen,  nor  in  scorn,"  but  from  an  instinct  He  has 
himself  implanted,  inward,  for  their  sympathy  and  coun 
sel.  So  it  happened,  that  though  Nelly  and  Agnes,  and  a 
dozen  merry  girls  beside,  were  my  sworn  friends  and  very 
firmest  allies,  none  of  them  knew  anything  of  the  keen  won 
der  and  almost  painful  longing  with  which  I  pictured  the 
future  to  myself.  They  knew,  of  course,  the  simple  facts, 
that  as  I  had  no  father  or  mother,  I  was  to  go  and  live 
with  my  aunt,  who  had  been  in  Europe  :intil  this  summer 


8  RUTLBDQE. 

and  whom  I  had  not  seen  since  my  mother  died ;  that 
she  had  three  daughters,  one  older,  two  younger  than 
myself;  that  she  had'  sent  me  some  pretty  things  from 
Paris,  and  was,  probably,  very  kind,  and  I  should  have  a 
very  nice  time. 

They  knew  only  these  bare  beams  and  framework  of  the 
gorgeous  fabric  I  had  reared  upon  them ;  they  little  knew  the 
hours  of  wakefulness  in  which  I  wondered  whether  I  should 
be  happy  or  miserable  in  that  new  home  ;  whether  my  aunt 
would  love  me  as  I  already  most  ardently  loved  her ;  whe 
ther  the  new  cousins  were  at  all  like  Nelly  and  Agnes ;  and 
whether  they  were  prepared  to  value  the  wealth  of  affection 
I  had  in  reserve  for  them.  But  time  would  soon  settle  all 
this  into  certainty ;  and  my  aunt's  last  letter,  containing  all 
the  final  arrangements  for  my  journey,  I  at  present  knew 
by  heart.  The  only  possible  shade  of  uncertainty  about  my 
starting,  lay  in  the  chance  of  the  gentleman  who  was  to  be 
my  escort,  being  detained  by  business  a  day  or  two  longer 

at  C ,  and  not  arriving  to-night,  as  had  been  considered 

probable. 

Nelly  built  greatly  upon  this  possibility,  and  as  the  twi 
light  deepened,  and  the  moaning  wind  and  growing  dark 
ness  pressed  more  and  more  upon  us,  we  turned  to  that  as 
our  only  chance  of  comfort.  Nelly  had  said,  for  the  twen 
tieth  time,  "  I  am  sure  he  will  not  come  till  to-morrow,  it  is 
too  late  for  him  now,"  when  a  sharp  ring  at  the  bell  made 
us  all  start,  and  sent  the  blood  swiftly  enough  through  my 
veins,  and,  I  suppose,  no  less  swiftly  through  my  young 
companions';  for  Nelly  convulsively  clasped  me  round  the 
neck  and  burst  into  tears,  while  Agnes  said,  in  a  choking 
voice,  "  I'm  certain  of  it  I"  And  for  three  dreadful  minutes 
of  suspense  we  stood  motionless,  holding  our  breath,  and 
watching  for  the  first  token  of  the  approach  of  the  messen 
ger  who  should  confirm  or  confute  our  forebodings. 

At  last,  steps  echoed  along  the  hall,  and  bearing  a  dim 
candle,  which  blinked  nervously  at  every  step,  appeared  the 


EOT  LEDGE.  9 

Biddy  who  officiated  as  waiter  at  St.  Catharine's.  She  had 
a  card  in  her  hand,  and  our  end  of  the  corridor  seemed  her 
destination,  and  our  party  the  party  she  was  in  search  of. 

"  Well  ?"  said  Agnes,  making  a  distracted  effort  to  break 
the  silence,  as  Biddy  groped  stupidly  and  slowly  toward  us. 
"A  gentleman,"  she  said,  "  a  gentleman  to  see  you,  miss," 
and  she  handed  me  the  card.  "  I  knew  it,"  said  Agnes, 
with  a  deep  sigh,  as,  per  favor  of  the  blinking  candle,  the 
three  heads,  clustered  over  the  card,  made  out  the  name, 
"  Mr.  Arthur  Rutledge." 

"  Oh,  I  am  so  frightened !"  I  said,  sitting  down  on  the 
lowest  step  of  the- stairs.  "Girls,  what  shall  I  do?" 

Nelly  shook  her  head  ;  she  did  not  wonder  I  was  afraid  ; 
for  five  years  I  had  encountered  no  gentlemen  more  alarm 
ing  than  the  professors,  and  no  strangers  more  intimidating 
than  occasional  new  scholars ;  and  knew  no  more  how  to 
conduct  myself  on  this  occasion,  than  if  I  had  not  received 
Miss  Crowen's  valuable  instructions  on  deportment.  I  had 
been  taught  to  swim,  theoretically,  on  shore,  and  now  was 
to  be  pushed  suddenly  out  into  deep  water,  to  make  the  best 
use  I  could  of  my  scientific  knowledge.  As  was  to  be  sup 
posed,  I  found  myself  not  much  the  better  for  it. 

"  He's  not  a  young  gentleman  though,"  said  Agnes,  "  and 
I  shouldn't  mind  it  much  if  I  were  you." 

"  Oh,  of  course  he's  not  young,  or  Aunt  "Edith  would  not 
have  had  me  go  with  him.  He's  as  old  as  the  hills,  I  know 
but  that  makes  it  so  much  the  worse;  and  then,  he  wa 
abroad  with  my  jJunt  and  cousins,  and  knows  them  all  S( 
well;  and  Aunt  Edith  calls  him  '  an  accomplished  gentleman 
of  high  standing ;'  and  oh !  I  am  sure  I  shall  blush  and  act 
like  a  fool,  and  disgrace  myself;  and  aunt  is  so  particular." 

Nelly  condoled,  Agnes  counselled,  and  I  stood  shivering 
in  an  agony  of  apprehension  and  dismay,  when  the  heavy 
tread  of  Miss  Crowen  on  the  stairs,  gave  an  impetus  to  my 
faltering  steps,  and  sent  me  parlor-wards  with  emphasis. 

"  If  you  don't  hurry,"  whispered  Agnes.  "  Miss  Crowe* 


10  RUT  LEDGE. 

will  drag  you  in,  and  make  one  of  her  horrible  speeches 
about  educational  advantages  and  mental  culture,  and  put 
you  through  a  course  of  mathematical  problems,  and  make 
you  show  off  on  the  piano,  if  not  sing." 

The  wily  Agnes  had  touched  the  right  chord.  Threat 
ened  with  this  new  horror,  I  grew  reckless,  and  without  a 
moment  more  of  hesitation,  bolted  into  the  parlor,  and  stood 
confronting  the  object  of  my  terror,  before  I  had  had  time  in 
the  least  to  prepare  my  line  of  conduct.  I  stood  for  a  moment 
with  burning  cheeks  and  downcast  eyes,  unable  to  articulate 
a  word,  and  saw  nothing,  heard  nothing,  till  I  found  myself 
seated  on  the  sofa,  and  being  talked  to  in  a  kind  manner 
by  the  dreaded  stranger,  who  sat  beside  me.  If  my  "  Yes 
sir,"  and  "No  sir,"  came  in  in  the  right  places,  I  can 
claim  no  sort  of  credit  for  it ;  for  neither  then  nor  now,  had 
or  have*  I  the  faintest  apprehension  of  anything  he  said 
By  and  by,  however,  under  the  influence  of  that  steady 
unmoved  voice,  my  alarm  began  to  subside,  and  my  scared 
senses,  after  fluttering  hopelessly  about,  like  a  dislodged 
orood  of  swallows,  began  at  last  to  collect  themselves  again, 
and  resume  their  proper  functions.  By  degrees  I  began  to 
comprehend  what  he  was  talking  about,  and  in  process  of 
time,  commanded  my  voice  sufficiently  to  answer  him 
audibly,  and  before  the  interview  was  over,  had  the  courage 
to  raise  my  eyes,  and  satisfy  myself  as  to  the  personal  ap 
pearance  of  this  my  destined  protector  in  the  three  days' 
journey  we  had  in  prospect. 

And  the  result  of  this  investigation  was,  the  instant 
establishment,  upon  a  firm  basis,  of  ease  and  confidence 
For  few  men  or  women,  much  less  children  or  girls,  ever 
looked  into  Mr.  Rutledge's  face,  without  feeling  that 
they  saw  their  master,  but  withal  so  firm  and  kind  a 
master,  that  all  thought  of  resistance  to  his  will,  or  stubborn 
mainteuance  of  their  own,  together  with  all  foolish  vanity 
and  consciousness,  vanished  at  once  and  forever,  or  re 
turned  but  seldom,  and  was  soon  conquered.  If  I  had 


RUTLEDGE.  II 

Cherished  any  romantic  hope  that  this  "  accomplishe  1  gen 
tleman  "  might  prove  anything  out  of  which  I  could  make 
that  dearest  dream  of  schoolgirl's  heart,  a  lover,  I  likewise 
relinquished  that  most  speedily,  for  nothing  in  the  person 
before  me,  gave  encouragement  to  such  an  idea.  Rather 
below  than  above  the.  medium  size,  and  of  a  firm,  well-pro 
portioned  figure,  Mr.  Rutledge  gave  one,  from  his  com 
manding  and  decided  carriage,  the  impression  of  a  much 
larger  man.  His  dark  hair  was  slightly  dashed  with  grey, 
his  eyes  were  keen  and  cold,  the  lines  of  care  and  thought 
about  his  brow  were  deep  and  strong.  If  his  face  could  be 
said  to  have  an  attraction,  it  lay  in  the  rare  smile  that 
sometimes  changed  the  sternness  of  his  mouth  into  winning 
sweetness  and  grace.  But  this  was  so  rare  that  it  could 
hardly  be  called  a  characteristic  of  his  habitually  cold  stern 
race.  That  it  wore  it  that  evening  however,  I  knew  then 
as  now,  was  because  I  was  a  child,  and  a  miserable,  fright 
ened  one  besides.  I  never  doubted  that  he  knew  how  I 
felt,  and  read  me  thoroughly. 

The  interview  was,  according  to  the  prim  little  clock  on 
the  mantelpiece,  by  no  means  a  long  one  ;  and  after  intro 
ducing  (with  but  indifferent  grace)  Miss  Crowen,  who  en 
tered  the  room  with  elephantine  tread,  to  my  visitor,  he 
took  leave,  having  arranged  to  come  for  me  the  next  morn 
ing  at  six. 

That  last  evening,  with  its  half-strange,  excited  novelty 
of  leave-taking,  and  last  messages  and  last  thoughts,  is  still 
distinct  in  my  memory ;  and  the  start  with  which  I 
answered  Biddy's  call  in  the  darkness  of  the  November 
morning,  the  dressing  with  cold  hurried  hands  that  were 
not  half  equal  to  the  task,  the  wild  way  in  \vhich  everything 
came  dancing  through. my  mind,  as  I  tried  to  say  my 
prayers,  the  utter  inability  to  taste  a  mouthful  of  the  break 
fast  Miss  Crowen  herself  had  superintended,  the  thrill  with 
which  I  heard  the  carriage  drive  up  to  the  door,  are  as  vivid 
as  recollections  can  well  be.,  And  I  am  in  no  danger,  either, 


12  RTJTLEDGE. 

of  forgetting  the  moment,  when,  wit  i  half  a  dozen  oi  my 
schoolfellows  who  had  been  allowed  to  see  me  oif,  I 
descended  the  steps  toward  the  carriage,  the  door  of  which 
Mr.  Rutledge  was  holding  open.  The  kind  good  bye  of 
Miss  Crowen,  the  warm  embraces  of  the  girls,  Nelly's  tears, 
Agnes'  wistful  look,  are  memories  I  cannot  part  with  if  I 
would. 

The  carriage  door  shut  to  with  a  snap,  the  horses  started 
forward  at  a  brisk  pace,  and  we  were  off,  and  I  had  left 
school  and  childhood  behind  me  forever.  I  did  not  cry  at 
all,  though  I  felt  desperately  like  it ;  but  the  consciousness 
that  Mr.  Rutledge  looked  sharply  at  me  to  see  how  I  took 
it,  made  me  struggle  harder  to  keep  back  my  tears,  and 
seem  womanly  and  composed.  In  this  I  succeeded  beyond 
my  hopes,  and  before  half  an  hour  had  passed,  the  bracing 
air  of  the  fine  autumn  morning,  the  rapid  pace  at  which  we 
rolled  along,  and  the  new  delight  to  my  cloistered  eyes,  ol 
farms,  and  villages,  woods  rich  in  the  many  colors  of  the 
fall,  and  meadows  and  uplands  basking  in  its  sunshine, 
made  me  feel  as  if  I  had  been  months  away  from  school, 
and  as  if  the  melancholy  of  last  night  were  some  strange 
distant  dream.  Seventeen  never  dreamed  more  fantastic 
dreams  than  I  did  that  morning,  however,  as  I  leaned  back 
in  the  carriage  and  idly  watched  the  gay  landscape  past  which 
we  were  hurrying.  It  was  quite  a  relief  to  me  that  my 
companion,  after  attending  to  my  comfort  in  every  neces 
sary  way,  settled  himself  in  his  corner  of  the  carriage,  and 
taking  a  book  from  his  valise,  devoted  himself  to  its  peru 
sal,  and  left  me  to  my  OAVII  thoughts  the  entire  morning. 
He  did  not  put  it  up  till  we  reached  the  town  where  wo 
were  to  dine  and  wait  for  the  cars. 

Dinner  did  not  prove  a  very  animated  meal  ;  my  com 
panion,  after  asking  me  about  school,  and  whether  I  felt 
sorry  to  leave  it,  and  a  few  more  questions  of  the  same 
nature  (such  as  people  always  put  to  school-girls,  and  by 
which  they  unconsciously  give  great  offence),  seemed  t<> 


BUTLEDGE.  13 

consider  his  conversational  duty  performed,  and  fell  into  a 
state  of  abstraction,  which  made  his  face  look  harder  and 
colder  than  ever ;  and  as  I  stealthily  regarded  him  from 
under  my  eyelashes,  some  of  last  night's  alarm  threatened 
to  return.  But  I  tried  to  overcome  it,  and  endeavored 
to  reassure  myself  by  remembering  how  kind  he  was  when 
I  was  so  much  embarrassed,  and  how  well  he  had  helped 
me  through  the  interview  that  he  might  have  made  so  ter 
rible  ;  and  that  he  did  not  talk  to  me — why,  certainly  it 
was  not  strange  that  a  gentleman  of  his  age  should  not  have 
much  in  common  with  a  girl  of  mine. 

By  and  by  the  cars  came  tearing  through  the  town  with 
a  whoop  and  a  shriek,  that  seemed  to  excite  everybody 
wonderfully,  considering  the  frequency  of  the  occurrence. 
Passengers,  porters,  newsboys,  in  one  mad  crowd,  rushed 
toward  the  depot,  each  emulating  in  his  own  proper  person, 
the  noble  rage  of  the  snorting,  impatient  monster,  upon 
whose  energy  we  were  all  depending.  The  only  individual 
entirely  unexcited,  was  my  escort,  who  never  for  a  moment 
lost  the  appearance  of  sang  froid  and  indifference  that  an 
earthquake  would  not  have  startled  him  out  of,  I  was  con 
vinced.  Though  we  did  not  hurry,  we  were,  before  many 
of  our  fellow-voyagers,  in  possession  of  the  best  seats,  and 
most  coinmodiously,  because  most  deliberately,  settled  for 
the  journey.  Mr.  Rutledge  was  emphatically  a  good 
traveller,  carrying  the  clear-sighted  precision  and  delibera 
tion  of  his  mind  into  all  the  details  of  travel,  and  thereby 
securing  himself  from  the  petty  annoyances  that  people 
often  think  unworthy  of  attention,  but  which  do  more  than 
they  suspect,  toward  marring  pleasure  and  destroying  com 
fort.  I  aptly  followed  his  manner,  and  was  a  marvel  of 
unconcerned  deliberation  in  the  matter  of  securing  my  seat 
and  arranging  my  shawls,  books  and  bags;  which  drew  from 
him  the  remark,  with  an  approving  glance,  that  he  perceived 
I  was  used  to  travelling.  That  observation,  either  from 
the  fact  of  its  being  so  absurdly  incorrect  in  its  premises. 


It  KUTIEDGE.- 

or  from  the  stronger  fact  of  its  being  the  only  one  ad 

dressed  to  me  until  7  P.M.,  when  we  stopped  at  F foi 

purposes  of  refreshment,  impressed  itself  very  much  upon 
my  mind. 

After  the  wretched  meal,  called  by  compliment  tea, 
which  we  were  allowed  twenty  minutes  to.  partake  of,  had 
been  dispatched,  and  we  were  again  settled  in  the  cars  in 
which  we  were  to  travel  all  night,  commenced  the  trials  of 
the  journey — to  me,  at  least,  for  I  was  an  entire  novice, 
not  having  been  twenty  miles  away  from  St.  Catharine's 
since  I  was  first  taken  there,  and  having  but  a  dim  recol 
lection  of  that,  my  first  and  last  journey  till  the  present 
time.  Being  also  subject  to  the  most  unbearably  severe 
headaches  upon  any  unusual  excitement,  it  is  not  very  won 
derful  that  on  this  occasion  I  was  attacked  with  one,  and 
before  night  had  actually  set  in,  was  as  completely  mise 
rable,  as  in  the  morning  I  had  been  completely  happy. 
Excitement  and  weariness  began  to  tell  most  painfully  upon 
nie.  Not  a  bone  but  ached,  not  a  nerve  in  my  whole  bod} 
but  throbbed  and  quivered.  It  was  as  impossible  to  think 
quietly  as  to  sit  quietly.  Homesickness,  for  the  home  I  had 
been  longing  to  get  away  from  for  five  years — all  the 
niserable  things  I  had  ever  suffered  or  dreaded — all  the 
fancied  and  real  trials  of  my  life,  then  and  there  beset 
my  aching  head,  and  made  sleep  or  composure  an  impossi 
bility. 

If  there  had  been  a  soul  to  speak  to,  a  human  voice  to  say 
a,  single  word  of  sympathy,  however  commonplace,  I 
thought  it  would  have  made  the  night  endurable.  But 
among  the  sleepy,  senseless  crowd  around,  the  only  one  I 
had  a  right  to  expect  attention  from,  or  to  whom  I  was 
entitled  to  address  a  word,  was  as  regardless  of  my  exist 
ence  as  any  of  the  rest.  Mr.  Rutledge  occupied  the  seat 
before  me,  and  the  imperfect  light  of  the  lamp  that  rattled 
and  flickered  above  us,  showed  me  more  plainly  than  any 
other  object,  his  fixed,  unsympathizing  face,  as  he  leaned 


JE  U  T  L  E  D  G  E  .  15 

against  the  window  of  the  car,  his  lips  compressed  and  hia 
brow  knit.  He  did  not  sleep  any  more  than  I  did,  nor  do  I 
think  he  was  a  whit  more  comfortable;  but  he  had  his 
impatience  under  better  control,  and  never  moved  a  muscle 
or  uttered  a  sound  for  hours  together. 

It  was  the  most  torturing  thing  to  watch  him,  so  entirely 
unmoved  by  the  discomforts  that  were,  I  was  firmly  con 
vinced,  driving  me  mad ;  and  in  my  jaundiced  eyes,  his  pro 
file  took  a  thousand  wizard  shapes.  It  would  have  been  a 
relief  if  he  had  moved  in  ever  so  slight  a  degree  to  one  side 
or  the  other ;  but  a  painted  face  upon  a  painted  window 
could  not  have  been  more  rigid  than  the  one  before  me.  I 
was  dying  of  thirst,  was  smothering  for  want  of  air,  ached 
in  every  limb,  and  there  were  hours  yet  to  morning !  The 
monotonous  motion  of  the  cars,  and  their  accompanying 
noises,  harsh  and  shrill,  made  to  my  perfectly  unaccustomed 
ear  a  frightful  combination  of  discord ;  and  this  all  coming 
upon  my  excited  and  sensitive  nerves,  worked  me  up  into  a 
state  of  wretchedness  that  naturally  resulted  in  that  climax 
of  woes  feminine,  a  fit  of  crying. 

I  could  no  more  have  helped  it  than  the  wind  could  have 
helped  blowing,  and  never  having  learned  to  control  myself, 
could  not  suppress  the  indulgence  of  an  emotion  which,  an 
hour  afterward,  I  remembered  with  acute  mortification.  I 
tried  to  smother  my  sobs,  but  they  reached  at  last  the  ear 
of  my  silent  companion,  who  started,  and  turning  toward 
me,  asked,  with  a  shade  of  impatience  in  his  tone,  what  was 
the  matter  ?  Was  I  ill  ? 

That  question,  so  put,  in  the  indescribable  tone  that 
shows  to  a  sensitive  ear  a  want  of  sympathy  the  most  gall 
ing,  was  the  best  cure  that  could  have  been  devised  for  my 
tears.  They  were  done,  altogether  ;  but  in  their  place,  the 
angry  blood  flew  to  my  face,  and  I  inly  vowed,  in  accord 
ance  with  school-girl  notions  of  right,  never  to  forget  or  for 
give  the  insult.  Angrily  averting  my  head,  I  declined  any 
assistance  or  attention  whatever,  and  pride  having  thua 


R  U  TLE  D  G       . 

stepped  in  to  the  rescue,  I  was  able  to  maintain  as  rigid  a 
demeanor  as  Mr.  Rutledge  himself.  For  a  moment  he 
looked  at  me  with  an  expression  that  I  could  not  quite 
make  out,  then  with  the  slightest  possible  shrug  of  thn 
shoulders,  turned  away,  and  seating  himself  again  in  the 
-  corner,  resumed  his  former  attitude.  That  was  enough  ; 
all  my  spirit  was  roused  ;  I  had  always  been  good  at  hating, 
but  the  present  crisis  brought  out  powers  I  had  never  been 
aware  of  before  ;  and  there  was  a  great  deal  in  the  fact  of 
my  having  made  a  fool  of  myself  in  the  presence  of  Mr. 
Rutledge,  to  help  me  along  in  detesting  him ;  and  not  being 
in  a  particularly  reasonable  or  well-governed  frame  of  mind, 
the  aversion  I  had  conceived  increased  with  alarming 
rapidity.  It  was  wonderful  bow  powerful  my  resentment 
was  to  keep  my  weariness  arid  impatience  in  check.  I  did 
not  move  an  inch  nor  utter  a  single  word  ;  I  would  have 
borne  the  rack  and  torture  rather  than  exhibit,  after  that 
shrug,  another  shade  of  emotion. 

When  at  last,  morning  being  broadly  awake,  we  were 
released  from  our  prison  for  an  hour  to  breakfast  and  rest 
at  a  way-station  that  seemed  most  utterly  repugnant  to 
those  two  ideas,  Mr.  Rutledge  asked  me  if  I  would  not  pre 
fer,  on  account  of  my  fatigue,  waiting  there  till  the  next 
train,  which  would  arrive  at  noon  ? 

I  answered,  "Decidedly  not,"  with  so  much  emphasis, 
that  he  only  boAved  and  turned  away ;  with  what  opinion 
of  my  temper  it  is  not  pleasant  to  think.  Before  the  day 
was  over,  he  had,  I  presume,  concluded,  that  he  had  taken 
under  his  charge  about  as  willful  and  disagreeable  a  young 
miss  as  ever  tried  the  patience  of  parent  or  protector. 

The  day  wore  on,  much  after  the  manner  of  yesterday. 
That  night   at  twelve,   we  expected  to  arrive   at    C — 
where  we  were  to  rest  till  morning ;  and  thence  taking  the 
boat,  were  to  reach  our  journey's  end  about  noon. 

It  was  toward  evening  of  that  weary  day ;  I  was  sitting 
listlessly  looking  out  upon  the  ii  eary  suburbs  of  the  town 


RUTLEDGE.  17 

which  we  seemed  approaching,  and  thinking,  by  way  of 
diverting  myself,  of  Nelly  and  Agnes  and  school,  and  what 
they  were  doing  now,  and  whether  they  missed  me  ;  when 
there  came  a  sudden  jar,  then  a  horrid  crash,  a  shriek  that 
rent  the  air,  a  blow  upon  my  head  that  made  a  hideous 
glare  of  light,  then  darkness  absolute,  and  I  knew  no  more. 


CHAPTER  It 

"  The  brightest  rainbows  ever  piay 
Above  the  fountains  of  our  tears." 

MACKAY. 

How  long  after  it  was  that  consciousness  returned,  I 
cannot  tell ;  if  indeed  that  bewildered  dizzy  realization  of 
things  present  that  gradually  forced  itself  upon  rne,  can  be 
called  consciousness.  I  was  lying  on  the  ground,  and 
looked,  upon  opening  my  eyes,  up  at  the  clear  evening  sky. 
It  could  not  have  been  long  after  sunset,  and  all  the  scene 
around  me,  when  at  last  I  tried  to  comprehend  it,  was  dis 
tinct  enough.  Some  distance  from  where  I  lay,  there  was  a 
bridge  and  an  embankment,  perhaps  thirty  feet  high. 
Between  that  and  me,  a  horrid  mass  loomed  up  against  the 
sky,  black  and  shapeless,  one  car  piled  above  another  in  an 
awful  wreck.  Dark  figures  lay  around  me  on  the  ground, 
some  writhing  in  agony,  others  motionless  and  rigid ; 
groans  and  cries  the  most  appalling  smote  ray  ear.  But 
my  ear  and  all  my  senses  were  so  stunned  and  bewildered, 
that  to  see  and  hear  was  not  to  feel  alarm  or  awe  or  pity, 
only  dull  stupor  and  discomfort.  I  did  not  feel  the  least 
desire  to  move  or  speak,  the  least  solicitude  about  my  fate. 
Half  unconsciously  I  lay  watching  the  fading  light  in  the 
sky,  and  the  dark  figures  that  soon  were  swarming  around, 
bending  over  and  raising  up  the  wounded,  and  thrusting 
lanterns  into  the  faces  of  such  as  lay  stiff"  and  still  and  did 
not  heed  their  ejaculations. 

At  last  two  men  came  up  to  where  I  lay,  and  one,  from 
the  exclamation  of  recognition  he  made  as  they  bent  over 
me,  I  knew  to  be  Mr.  Rutledge.  The  effect  of  the  lantern 
glaring  so  suddenly  in  my  face,  was  *-o  make  me  start  up, 

is 


BUT  LEDGE.  19 

with  some  broken  exclamation  ;  but  the  words  had  hardly 
'eft  my  lips,  when  an  acute  pain  and  then  a  giddy  blindness 
rushed  over  me,  and  I  sunk  back,  and  with  a  horrible  sen 
sation  of  falling  down,  down,  to  unfathomable  darkness,  I 
was  again  insensible. 

I  suppose  I  must  have  remained  hi  that  state  all  night, 
for  it  was  daylight  Avhen  I  was  again  sufficiently  conscious 
to  know  what  was  going  on  around  me.  Mr.  Rutledge  was 
sitting  by  me  and  was  saying  to  the  physician,  whose  en 
trance  had,  I  think,  first  aroused  me,  that  he  considered  me 
doing  very  well,  the  fever  was  evidently  abating,  and  that 
he  thought  the  doctor  would  agree  with  him  that  I  might 
soon  be  moved  to  more  comfortable  quarters. 

"  If  any  such  can  be  found,"  the  doctor  answered;  "  but 
every  house  in  the  town,  as  well  as  both  the  hotels,  are 
crowded  with  the  sufferers,  and  I  think  your  chance  of 
comfort  is  as  good  here  as  it  will  be  anywhere  else ;  for, 
sir,  it  is  a  wretched  little  town  at  the  best.  I  wish  we  could 
boast  better  accommodations  for  strangers." 

"  Then  doctor,"  said  Mr.  Rutledge,  "  I  am  sure  you  will 
consent  to  what  I  have  been  thinking  of  as  the  most  feasi 
ble  plan.  You  know  it  is  but  eight  miles  to  Norbury,  and 
my  country  place  is  only  three  miles  beyond.  The  house, 
to  be  sure,  is  closed  for  the  winter ;  I  little  expected  to  be 
visiting  it  so  soon.  But  there  are  several  servants  in  it,  and 
it  can  quickly  be  made  comfortable,  and  Mrs.  Roberts,  my 
housekeeper,  is  an  excellent  nurse.  Don't  you  agree  with 
me  that  any  or  all  of  these  reasons  are  sufficient  to  make 
it  wise  to  try  to  get  there  as  soon  as  possible  ?  For  it  is 
not  going  to  be  any  joke  to  stay  in  this  dingy  place 
for-  a  fortnight,  and  that  child  will  not  be  fit  to  travel 
any  sooner ;  and  this  arm  of  mine  does  not  feel  much 
like  bearing  the  motion  of  those  accursed  cars  again  very 
soon." 

Mr.  Rutledge's  arm  was  bound  up,  and  an  occasional 
expression  of  pain  crossed  his  face,  though  that  was  the  only 


20  RUT  LEDGE. 

time  he  alluded  to  it.  The  doctor  made  an  unequivocal 
opposition  to  Mr.  Rutledge's  proposition,  and  raised  innu 
merable  objections  to  it,  all  of  which  he  quietly  put  aside  and 
overruled.  It  was  easy  to  see  who  would  carry  the  day; 
but  the  doctor  did  not  give  over  for  a  long  while.  When 
at  length  he  had  been  unwillingly  brought  to  say  that  it 
might  do  no  harm  to  be  moved  in  the  course  of  the  morning 
to  Rutledge,  he  started  another  unanswerable  objection — a 
suitable  vehicle  could  not  be  obtained  in  the  town  for  love 
or  money,  he  declared. 

"  I  will  manage  that,"  said  Mr.  Rutledge,  and  left  the 
room. 

The  doctor  shook  his  head  as  the  door  closed,  and  said, 
partly  to  himself,  and  partly  to  the  woman  who  seemed  to 
be  officiating  as  nurse : 

£'  He  goes  at  his  own  risk ;  it  may  do  or  it  may  not." 

"  He's  a  gentleman  what's  used  to  doing  as  he  wants  to,  I 
guess,"  remarked  the  woman,  "  and  don't  think  any  too  much 
of  other  people's  opinions." 

"  You  are  very  correct,"  said  the  doctor,  with  importance, 
"  A  little  learning  is  a  dangerous  thing,  and  Mr.  Rutledge 
knows  just  enough  of  medicine  to  be  confident  of  his  own 
judgment.  I  only  hope  his  imprudence  may  not  be 
visited  upon  this  poor  child.  So  young!"  he  continued, 
shaking  his  head. 

The  woman  shook  hers,  and  looked  at  him  with  reverence, 
while  he  went  on  to  describe  my  case  at  great  length,  and 
in  such  alarmingly  long  words,  that  I  was  in  danger  of  being 
frightened  back  into  a  high  fever,  had  not  the  return  of  Mr. 
Rutledge  saved  me  from  any  further  display  of  Dr.  Sartain's 
scientific  knowledge. 

Mr.  Rutledge  saw  in  a  moment  the  state  of  the  case,  for 
he  looked  at  me  attentively  as  he  came  in,  and  I  heard  him 
mutter  in  a  low  tone  as  he  felt  my  pulse,  "  This  won't  do." 
Then  aloud,  he  told  the  doctor  that  the  carriage  he  had  been 
fortunate  enough  to  engage  would  be  at  the  door  in  about 


BUTI^EDGE.  21 

an  hour  and  a  half,  and  that  he  would  not  detain  him  any 
longer  at  present,  but  would  recommend  his  taking  a  little 
rest,  for  he  should  be  obliged  to  ask  him  to  accompany  his 
patient  during  the  drive ;  it  would  be  safer,,he  thought,  and 
as  he  could  return  in  the  carriage,  it  would  involve  no  great 
loss  of  time ;  though  he  well  knew  Dr.  Sartain  could  hardly 
spare  a  moment  from  the  demands  of  his  extensive  prac 
tice,  etc. 

The  doctor,  somewhat  mollified,  consented  and  retired. 
Mr.  Rutledge  then  sent  the  woman  off,  and  telling  me, 
cheerfully  and  kindly,  that  I  was  doing  very  nicely,  and  that 
he  thought  a  little  sleep  would  strengthen  me  for  the  jour 
ney,  darkened  the  windows,  and  throwing  himself  into  an 
easy-chair,  seemed  inclined  to  set  me  the  example.  The 
Wunge  or  settee  on  which  I  was  placed,  had  been  made  as 
comfortable  as  the  circumstances  would  permit,  but  still  was 
painfully  far  from  easy  ;  and  I  tossed  about,  excited  and  rest 
less,  for  some  time.  But,  gradually  reassured  by  Mr.  Rut- 
ledge's  quiet  composure  and  cheerfulness,  and  soothed  by 
the  stillness  of  the  room,  I  fell  into  a  very  refreshing  sleep. 

It  was  about  noon  when  we  started,  the  doctor  being  in 
the  carriage  with  me,  Mr.  Rutledge,  I  am  sorry  to  remem. 
ber,  going  in  a  much  less  comfortable  vehicle.  It  did  not 
trouble  me  seriously  at  the  time,  however.  Dr.  Sartain's 
opinion  to  the  contrary  notwithstanding,  I  was  by  no  means 
injured  by  the  ride,  and  when  we  drove  under  the  gateway 
that  conveyed  to  my  listless  intellect  the  knowledge  that  we 
had  reached  Rutledge,  besides  a  little  increased  languor 
and  weariness,  I  felt  no  worse  than  when  we  left  the 
town. 

Mr.  Rutledge,  who  was  in  advance,  reached  the  house 
first,  and  in  a  moment  tjie  excitement  that  our  arrival  had 
produced  became  apparent ;  two  or  three  maids  rushed  out 
from  a  side-door  as  Mr.  Rutledge  ascended  the  steps,  and, 
overcome  with  alarm  at  the  sight  of  two  carriages,  and  their 
master  with  his  arm  in  a  sling,  rushed  back  agair  bringing 


22  KUT  LEDGE. 

their  hands,  and  displaying  many  symptcrns  of  consternation 
Mr.  Rutledge  in  the  mean  time  had  entered  the  house,  and 
soon  appeared  at  the  door  accompanied  by  a  tall,  elderly 
woman,  in  a  black  bombazine  dress,  and  a  lace  cap  with, 
white  ribbons,  to  whom  he  was  explaining,  in  a  concise  and 
forcible  manner,  the  state  of  affairs,  and  what  was  to  be  done. 
They  came  down  to  the  carriage,  and  Mr.  Rutledge  intro 
duced  "  Mrs.  Roberts"  to  the  doctor  and  to  me,  and  then 
assisting  me  to  alight,  we  ascended  the  broad  stone  steps  to 
the  piazza,  and  thence  into  a  wide  hall. 

Mr.  Rutledge  told  the  housekeeper  that  it  would,  he 
thought,  b«  best  for  me  to  go  immediately  up  to  her  room, 
where  I  could  lie  on  the  sofa  till  my  apartment  could  be 
made  ready. 

Accordingly  I  went  upstairs,  and  took  possession  of  Mrs. 
Roberts'  sofa  and  Mrs.  Roberts'  room,  both  sombre  and  stiff 
enough,  but  infinitely  more  easy  and  prepossessing  than  the 
lady  herself.  I  cannot  imagine  that  at  that  very  early  stage  of 
our  acquaintance,  she  could  have  entertained  any  personal  re 
sentment  toward  me,  and  yet  I  was  entirely  possessed  of  that 
belief  from  the  first  moment  that  I  saw  her.  But  I  have 
since  discovered  that  she  invariably  impressed  all  .strangers 
with  a  similar  conviction,  and  from  that,  and  from  subse 
quent  knowledge  of  her  character,  I  have  concluded  that  it 
was  merely  "  a  way  she  had,"  and  was  by  no  means  to  be 
regarded  as  an  expression  of  her  sentiments  toward  any  one. 
Unhappily,  I  did  not  have  this  light  upon  her,  and  soon  be 
gan  to  feel  myself  in  the  hands  of  a  grim  tyrant,  whose  only 
motive  in  exertions  made  ostensibly  for  my  benefit,  was  to 
get  possession  of  me,  soul  and  body,  and  render  me,  if  possi 
ble,  more  wretched  than  she  found  me. 

I  lay  quietly  on  the  sofa  where  she  had  placed  me,  with 
no  ungentle  hand  to  be  sure,  but  without  the  slightest  relax 
ing  of  her  blue  lips,  or  the  smallest  indication  of  pity  in  her 
uncompromising  eyes ;  and  watched  her  as  she  pursued  her 
plan  cf  operations,  steadiJy  and  energetically.  She  cer- 


BUT  LEDGE.  23 

* 

tainly  knew  what  she  was  about,  and  for  precision  and 
promptness  must  have  been  a  treasure  in  Mr.  Rutledge'* 
eyes.  There  was  an  incredible  amount  of  work  accom 
plished  in  that  house  within  the  next  hour ;  rooms  wer,2 
opened,  fires  were  lighted,  beds  were  aired ;  sounds  of 
sweeping  and  dusting  and  beating  of  mattresses,  filling  of 
pitchers,  and  crackling  of  fires,  reached  my  indolent  ears. 
Mrs.  Roberts,  standing  before  a  huge  open  wardrobe,  dealt 
out  sheets,  pillow-cases,  towels,  table-cloths  and  napkins  to 
the  maids,  who  bustled  about  with  distressing  activity,  not 
^infrequently  goaded  on  by  a  few  sharp  words  from  their 
mistress,  who  ruled  them,  I  could  see,  with  a  rod  of  iron. 
The  threat,  however,  that  stirred  up  their  flagging  energies 
most  effectually,  seemed  to  be,  the  wrath  of  Mr.  Rutledge. 
I  began  to  feel  myself  drawn  sympathizingly  toward  the 
maids,  and  could  not  help  wondering  whether  they  were  as 
much  afraid  of  the  master,  and  as  much  averse  to  the  mis 
tress  of  the  house  as  I  was,  and  whether  they  wished  them 
selves  away  as  much ;  and  if  they  did,  why  they  didn't  go ; 
or  whether,  indeed,  people  ever  got  away  who  once  camo 
in  it.  The  gloom  of  the  great  hall,  with  its  broad,  stone 
staircase,  on  which  the  servants'  steps  echoed  drearily,  and 
the  dark  glimpses  of  shut-up  rooms  that  I  had  caught  on 
my  way  up,  seemed  to  favor  this  latter  idea — I  would  write 
for  my  aunt  to  come  for  me  immediately ;  I  would  ask  the 
doctor  to  take  me  back  with  him.  I  should  die  if  they  left 
me  in  this  gloomy  place.  Perhaps  I  might  die  here — who 
could  tell?  The  doctor  had  said  I  was  very  ill. 

Tears  came  but  too  easily  in  those  foolish  days,  and  bury 
ing  niy  throbbing  temples  in  the  pillow,  I  cried  as  if  my 
heart  would  break,  or  as  if  it  had  indeed  broken.  My 
emotion  was  none  the  lighter  because  it  was  imaginary,  nor 
none  the  easier  to  bear  because  it  was  absurd.  •  Children's 
troubles  and  terrors  are  only  less  severe  than  those  oi 
maturer  minds,  as  they  are  shorter  lived ;  while  they  last 
they  are,  if  possible,  more  violent  and  less  bearable.  Am1 


RUTLBDGE. 

at  that  time  I  was,  to  all  intents  and  purposes,  a  child,  and 
a  sick,  nervous,  excited  one  besides. 

By  and  by  Mrs.  Roberts  came  up  to  where  I  lay  motion 
less  with  my  face  hidden  in  the  pillows,  and,  leaning  over 
me,  said  in  her  chilling  tones,  "Are  you  comfortable? 
Will  you  have  anything?" 

I  did  not  move.  She  listened  for  a  moment,  then  going 
to  the  door  said  to  some  one  outside : 

"  She's  asleep,  sir,  and  doing  well.  You  had  better  take 
some  rest  yourself." 

The  door  closed,  and  I  suppressed  my  sobs  to  listen.  In 
a  few  minutes  Mrs.  Roberts  came  again  to  look  at  me, 
then  noiselessly  left  the  room.  I  could  endure  it  no  longer, 
and  throwing  back  the  blankets,  raised  myself  and  sa"t 
upright.  I  cried  for  a  long  while  ;  every  minute  the  prison 
feeling  seemed  to  grow  stronger,  till  at  last  it  drove  me  to 
that  climax  of  desperation  which,  in  actual  prisoners,  results 
in  knocking  down  turnkeys,  and  (according  to  the  news 
papers)  doing  many  frantic  and  atrocious  acts,  to  reach 
"the  blessed  sun  and  air,"  from  which  they  have  been 
"  banned  and  barred."  • 

I  had  reached  that  climax,  I  say ;  I  had  dried  my  tears, 
and  sat  still,  with  clenched  hands,  some  wild  plan  of  escape 
arranging  itself  in  my  brain,  when  the  door  suddenly  opened, 
and  Mrs.  Roberts  reappeared. 

"  Oh,  you're  awake,  are  you  ?  I'll  call  the  doctor ;  he's  got 
through  setting  Mr.  Rutledge's  arm,  and  was  just  going." 

I  hurriedly  pushed  the  hair  from  my  flushed  face,  and 
tried  to  look  composed  as  the  doctor  entered  with  Mrs. 
Roberts,  and  followed  soon  by  Mr.  Rutledge,  who  came, 
he  said,  to  get  the  doctor's  directions,  and  to  see  if  Mrs. 
Roberts  was  doing  everything  for  me  that  I  required.  The 
doctor  sat  down  by  me,  and  taking  hold  of  my  wrist,  asked 
me  if  I  felt  better  for  my  sleep. 

Mr.  Rutledge,  looking  at  rue,  said,  "  Not  much  sleep,  1 
am  afraid.  How  is  it  ?" 


RUTLEDt*.  20 

I  pressed  my  lips  very  tight  together  :o  keep  from  cry 
ing,  and  shook  my  head.  Mrs.  Roberts,  who  did  not  pro 
bably  notice  the  gesture,  said,  "  Oh,  yes,  she's  slept  nicely 
frs-  three-quarters  of  an  hour. 

Then  she  and  the  doctor  talked  about  me  as  if  I  were  in 
the  next  room,  and  no  way  interested  in  the  affair.  After 
many  directions  given  and  received,  and  many  injunctions 
and  much  emphasis,  the  doctor  rose  to  go,  saying  that  he 
should  not  be  able  to  come  again  until  the  day  after  to 
morrow  (unless,  of  course,  I  should  be  taken  with  any 
unexpected  symptoms) ;  in  the  mean  time  he  hoped  he  left 
me  in  safe  hands  (with  a  look  direct  at  Mrs.  Roberts). 
Mr.  Rutledge  smothered  a  smile,  accompanied  him  to  the 
door,  arid  parted  from  him  very  courteously,  then  returned 
to  me.  He  hoped,  he  said,  that  I  did  not  mind  trusting 
myself  to  him  during  the  doctor's  absence,  and  Mre, 
Roberts  would,  he  knew,  take  as  good  care  of  me  as  the 
doctor  himself  could.  He  then  went  on  to  say  that  he  had 
telegraphed  my  aunt  last  evening  to  prevent  her  feeling  any 
alarm  on  hearing  of  the  accident,  and  that  he  had  written 
to  her  more  fully  by  mail  to-day,  telling  her  of  my  improve 
ment,  and  assuring  her  that  it  would  not  be  necessary  for 
her  to  come  on,  as  I  could  have  every  care  here. 

"  In  two  or  three  weeks,"  he  continued,  "  I  trust  you 
will  be  perfectly  well  and  entirely  fit  to  travel." 

Two  or  three  weeks!  The  thought  was  too  dreadful 
and  bursting  into  tears,  I  exclaimed  : 

"  I  am  well  enough  to  go  now !  I  had  rather  go  home 
with  the  doctor !" 

Mr.  Rutledge  was  silent  for  a  moment,  then  sitting  down 
beside  me,  in  the  doctor's  vacated  seat,  said,  as  if  he  wer« 
speaking  to  a  very  little  child  : 

"  You  are  not  well  enough  to  start  now ;  it  might  do  you 
a  great  deal  of  harm.  Possibly  you  may  be  able  to  go  much 
sooner  than  the  doctor  thinks ;  only  be  patient  a  day  cu 

2 


iJ6  RUT  LEDGE. 

two,  and  depend  upon  it,  I  will  let  you  go  the  7ery  minui* 
you  can  bear  it." 

I  shook  my  head  and  sobbed  convulsively. 

"  My  dear  little  girl,"  he  said,  "  you  are  too  nervous  now 
to  be  reasonable,  but  you  must  try  and  be  quiet  and  not 
cry,  for  that  is  the  very  worst  thing  for  you,  and  will  keep 
you  here  longer  than  anything  else.  .  Your  head  aches, 
doesn't  it  ?" 

"  Yes,  dreadfully,"  I  sobbed. 

"  Well,  the  more  you  cry,  the  more  it  will  ache,  and  the 
more  it  aches,  the  more  fever  you  will  have,  and  that  is 
just  what  you  must  get  rid  of  before  you  can  be  fit  to  starf 
for  home.  You  will  feel  very  differently,  I  assure  you,  to 
morrow  morning,  after  you  have  had  a  good  night's  sleep." 

"  I  can't  sleep !"  I  exclaimed. 

"  Oh  yes,  you  can !  The  doctor  has  left  you  some  pow4 
ders  that  will  make  that  all  right,  and  I  will  give  you  onft 
now." 

He  mixed  it  in  a  glass  that  Mrs.  Roberts  had  brought  for 
the  purpose,  and  I  drank  it,  then  followed  his  advice  and 
lay  my  hot  and  throbbing  head  on  the  pillow.  He  sat 
down  again,  and  continued,  speaking  soothingly,  and  in  a 
manly,  kind  voice,  still  as  if  I  were  about  eight  years  old. 

"  Your  room  will  be  ready  in  a  few  moments,  and  I  think 
you  will  be  more  comfortable  there  than  in  this  old-fashioned 
Xetreat  of  Mrs.  Roberts'.  Hair-cloth  and  mahogany  are 
father  dismal  for  sensitive  nerves,  it  must  be  acknowledged," 
glancing  with  a  smile  around  the  apartment.  "  The  room 
you  are  to  have  is  on  the  other  side  of  the  hall,  and  looks 
out  on  the  park,  and  is  quite  cheerful  and  pleasant.  And  if 
you  do  not  like  to  be  alone,  Mrs.  Roberts  shall  some  and 
sleep  on  the  sofa  by  you." 

The  expression  of  my  face  was  probably  unmistakable ; 
much  as  I  dreaded  solitude,  I  dreaded  Mrs.  Roberts 
more,  and  was  immensely  relieved  when  my  companion 
added,  "'Perhaps,  though,  on  the  whole,  Kitty  had  better 


RUTLEDGE.  27 

come  and  wait  on  you.  Kitty  is  one  of  the  maids,  and  is 
very  pleasant,  and  I  think  you  will  like  her.  I  will  send  hef 
to  you  now.  She  will  give  you  your  medicine,  and  sit  by 
you  for  company.  You  must  send  her  to  me  if  there  is  any 
thing  more  I  can  do  for  you  to  night.  I  hope  the  headache 
will  all  be  gone  by  to-morrow  morning." 

And  with  a  few  more  kind  words  the  master  left  me,  and 
the  maid  soon  appeared,  whose  bright  face  and  cheerful 
care  helped  along  very  considerably  the  cure  that  wss 
already  begun.  It  was  a  pleasure  to  be  waited  on  by  Kitty ; 
it  was  a  pleasure  to  hear  her  clear  young  voice  and  to  be 
served  by  her  strong  young  arms.  She  must,  I  think,  have 
had  strict  orders  not  to  leave  me ;  for  after  everything  in  the 
way  of  arranging  the  pillows  and  smoothing  the  blankets, 
and  adjusting  everything  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  sofa, 
had  been  accomplished,  she  still  lingered  beside  me,  asking 
if  I  was  comfortable,  if  she  shouldn't  get  me  a  glass  of  wa 
ter,  if  I  wouldn't  like  the  curtains  drawn  back  a  little,  etc. 

Mrs.  Roberts,  who  had  returned,  was  sitting  by  the  win 
dow,  a  huge  basket  of  work  beside  her,  over  which  she  was 
straining  her  eyes,  economical  of  every  ray  of  the  rapidly 
fading  daylight.  She  was  too  utilitarian .  in  her  turn  of 
mind  to  submit  quietly  to  the  sight  of  Kitty's  idleness,  and 
very  soon  suggested  to  her  that  she  had  better  go  down 
stairs  to  her  work.  Kitty  said,  "  Yes  ma'am,"  but  didn't 
go.  Again  Mrs.  Roberts  suggested,  and  again  Kitty  cle 
verly  evaded.  The  third  time,  the  mistress  laid  down  her 
work,  and  any  one  less  stout-hearted  than  the  young  person 
before  her  would  have  trembled  at  the  sharp  tone  in  which 
she  repeated  her  order.  If  it  had  been  addressed  to  me,  I 
am  sure  I  should  have  submitted  in  trepidation ;  as  it  was,  I 
trembled  for  Kitty,  who,  however,  was  nothing  daunted, 
and  turning  round,  said,  in  a  tone  just  one  remove  from  pert 

"  Mr.  Rutledge,  ma'am,  sent  me  up,  and  told  me  to  staj 
with  the  young  lady,  and  to  wait  on  her ;  and,  also,  he  sayl 
that's  to  be  my  duty  while  she's  here,  ma'am." 


28  RUTLEDGE. 

A  genuine  thundercloud  lowered  on  Mrs.  Roberts'  face, 
but  a  portentous  "TJmph"  was  all  the  rejoinder  she  made 
to  this  decisive  speech.  Kitty  reassured  me  with  a  little 
nod,  and  I  quite  rejoiced  in  our  apparent  victory. 

Before  long,  a  servant  knocked  at  the  door,  and  an 
nounced  that  my  room  was  ready.  Then  succeeded  a  plea 
sant  bustle  and  excitement  incident  to  my  removal  to  it. 
Kitty  insisted  upon  considering  me  a  perfectly  helpless  invr,- 
lid,  and  would  have  carried  me,  if  I  had  not  remonstrated, 
and  Mrs.  Roberts  had  not  sneered  at  the  idea.  As  it  was, 
she  wrapped  me  up  so  that  I  could  hardly  move,  and  sup 
porting  me  with  her  arm,  preceded  by  Mrs.  Roberts,  we 
crossed  the  hall,  and  stopped  at  the  door  of  the  apartment 
assigned  to  me. 

"  Oh,  what  a  pretty  room !"  I  exclaimed,  as  we  entered  it. 
Kitty  was  charmed  that  I  liked  it,  and  proceeded  with 
great  satisfaction  to  do  the  honors.  Wheeling  toward  me 
an  easy-chair,  and  settling  me  in  it  before  the  bright  fire 
that  blazed  on  the  hearth,  she  said  with  animation : 

u  Isn't  it  a  pretty  room,  miss  ?  I've  always  said,  that 
though  the  others  were  bigger  and  finer,  there  wasn't 
one  that  had  such  a  sweet  pretty  look  about  it  as  the  blue 
room  had.  It's  just  fit  for  a  young  lady  like  you." 

Kitty  was  not  wrong  about  its  being  a  pretty  room  ;  I 
never  saw  a  prettier  myself.  It  was  not  large,  but  well- 
proportioned  and  airy.  Opposite  the  door  there  was  a  bay 
window,  with  white  curtains  trimmed  with  blue,  and  the 
same  at  the  other  two  windows.  The  bed  at  the  end  of  tht> 
room  stood  in  a  recess,  curtained  in  the  same  manner.  The 
walls  were  papered  with  a  delicate  blue  paper,  the  wood 
work  about  the  room  was  oak,  and  all  the  furniture  was  oak 
and  light  blue.  The  carpet,  which  was  in  itself  a  study, 
was  an  arabesque  pattern  of  oak  upon  a  light-blue  ground. 
The  slender  vases  on  the  mantel,  the  pictures  in  their  carved 
oak  frames,  had  an  inexpressible  charm  for  eyes  so  long  ao- 
pustomed  to  the  bare  walls  and  wooden  presses  of  a  board* 


KUTLED6E.  2k 

mg  school  dormitory.  And  even  to  a  maturer  taste,  I 
think  it  would  have  been  pleasing ;  for  I  do  not  remember 
ever  to  have  seen  a  room  more  entirely  in  keeping,  and  in 
which  there  was  less  out  of  place  and  inharmonious.  In 
deed,  this  impression  was  so  strong,  that  I  involuntarily 
begged  Kitty  to  put  away  my  dark  plaid  shawl,  the  sight 
of  which,  upon  the  delicate  blue  sofa,  annoyed  me  exceed 
ingly  ;  and  I  thought  with  satisfaction  of  a  certain  blue 
morning  dress  in  my  trunk,  that  I  could  put  on  to-morrow, 
by  way  of  being  in  keeping  with  the  room.  And  the  white 
lava  pin  and  earrings,  Agnes'  parting  gift,  which  I  had 
never  worn  yet,  and  admired  beyond  expression,  would 
come  in  play  exactly. 

While  Kitty  made  herself  delightfully  busy  in  unpacking 
my  trunk,  which  stood  in  the  little  dressing-room  at  the 
right,  and  bestowing  my  modest  wardrobe  in  the  drawers 
and  closets  thereof,  I  lay  nestling  in  the  soft  depths  of  that 
marvellous  Sleepy  Hollow  of  a  chair,  that  holding  me  lov 
ingly  in  its  capacious  arms,  seemed  to  perform  every  office 
of  a  good  old  nurse,  even  to  the  singing  of  lullabies. 
Though  that  kind  attention,  I  think,  really  emanated  from 
the  glowing,  merry  fire,  which  sung,  crackled,  and  blazed 
most  hospitably  at  my  feet. 

The  headache  that  an  hour  ago  had  seemed  so  insupport 
able,  had  now  subsided  to  a  dull  throbbing  that  was  com 
paratively  ease  and  comfort ;  and  to  lie  there,  and  look  at 
the  fire,  and  think  about  nothing,  and  speak  to  nobody,  and 
be  sure  that  Kitty  was  near  me,  and  Mrs.  Roberts  and 
"  the  master  "  very  far  away,  was  all  I  asked  or  desired. 

This  negative  sort  of  bliss  found  a  temporary  inter 
ruption  in  the  necessary  departure  of  Kitty  to  the  kitchen, 
to  procure  my  tea  and  bring  up  candles.  I  felt  rather 
babyishly  about  it,  and  nothing  but  shame  kept  me  iron, 
telling  Kitty  that  I  had  rather  do  without  my  tea,  and  go 
to  bed  by  firelight,  than  have  her  leave  me.  She  did  not 
stay  aAvay  very  long,  however,  and  the  nice  cup  of  tea  and 


3D  B  -TJ  T  L  E  D  G  B  . 

crisp  thin  slice  of  toast,  that  she  brought  back  with  her, 
quite  compensated  me  for  the  self-denial  I  had  had  to  exei 
cise  in  letting  her  go.  These  edibles,  Kitty,  with  all  the 
pomp  and  circumstance  of  war,  arranged  upon  the  little 
table  beside  me,  placing  the  tall  wax  candles  in  the  centre, 
and  distributing  the  diminutive  pieces  of  the  dainty  little 
te"te-a-tete  set  in  the  most  advantageous  manner.  The  tea 
tasted  very  nicely  out  of  the  thin  china  cup,  that  felt  like  a 
play-thing  when  I  lifted  it,  accustomed  as  I  was  to  the 
heavy  bluish-white  crockery  of  boarding-school,  and  though 
I  lacked  the  vigorous  appetite,  that  had  made  the  primitive 
meals  of  that  establishment  enjoyable,  still,  the  delicate  food 
before  me  had  a  decided  relish.  Kitty  very  much  en 
joyed  my  appreciation  of  it,  and  was  very  sorry  she  could 
not  go  down  and  bring  me  another  slice  of  toast,  but  Mr. 
Rutledge  had  said  I  must  not  have  any  more. 

"  I  couldn't  eat  any  more,  thank  you,"  I  said,  rather 
haughtily,  though  Mr.  Rutledge,  and  not  the  kind  Kitty, 
inspired  the  hauteur.  Mrs.  Roberts  made  us  a  call  soon 
after  this,  and  said  it  was  high  time  I  went  to  bed,  and  told 
Kitty  sharply,  she  knew  it  was  her  work,  keeping  me  up 
BO  long,  and  hurried  up  the  preparations  for  retiring,  with 
energy.  Kitty  looked  saucy,  but  did  not  dare  to  rebel,  and 
only  indulged  in  defiance  after  the  door  was  closed  behind 
the  intruder.  She  again  returned,  however,  on  a  final  tour 
of  inspection,  after  I  was  comfortably  arranged  in  the  fair 
•white  delicious  bed,  that  seemed  to  be  a  special  partner  of 
tired  nature's  sweet  restorer,  who  was  good  for  any  amount 
on  its  demand.  She  "  poked  in  every  corner  "  as  Kitty 
expressed  it,  and  found  a  dozen  things  to  object  to  in  her 
arrangements,  pulled  open  drawers,  and  set  Kitty  poutingly 
at  work  to  settle  them  properly,  and  made  my  temples 
throb  again  with  alarm  lest  she  should  find  something 
objectionable  among  my  clothes,  some  rent  in  my  school 
frock,  or  rji  undarned  stocking  smuggled  through  the  vigi 
lant  scrr  iny  of  last  week's  wash.  She  sent  Kitty  for  her 


KUTLEDGE.  31 

mattress  ami  blankets,  and  superintended  the  arrangement 
of  them,  though  I  could  see  she  did  not  enter  cordially  into 
the  plan;  but  as  Mr.  Rutledge  had  ordered  that  Kitty 
should  sleep  beside  me,  I  was  sure  she  would  not  dare  to 
oppose  it. 

At  last  there  was  no  excuse  lor  a  longer  tarry,  and  she 
withdrew  ;  Kitty,  with  a  triumphant  gesture,  slid  the  bolt 
upon  her,  and  we  "  settled  our  brains  for  a  long  winter's 
nap."  A  nap  not  altogether  uninterrupted  on  my  part,  by 
troubled  dreams,  and  sudden  starts,  and  foolish  fears  ;  but 
my  waking  was  always  met  by  Kitty's  ready  care  and 
soothing  sympathy;  and  toward  morning  quieted  into  a 
long  refreshing  sleep. 


"  O  Time !  thou  must  untangle  tins,  not  I, 
'Tis  too  Lard  a  knot  for  me  to  untie." 

WHEN  I  awoke,  it  was  to  the  pleasant  reality  of  morning 
and  sunshine,  that  had  found  their  way  through  the  light 
curtains  of  my  pleasant  room,  and  made  it  pleasanter  than 
ever.  Kitty  was  at  my  side  in  an  instant,  and  a  brighter 
fresher  face  to  greet  one's  waking  vision  could  not  be  de 
sired.  She  managed,  by  prompt  and  clever  measures,  to 
keep  off  Mrs.  Roberts  till  I  had  had  my  breakfast,  and  risen 
and  been  dressed.  It  was  matter  of  great  astonishment  to 
me  to  find  myself  so  absurdly  weak,  my  strength  and  spirits 
at  school  having  passed  into  a  proverb.  This  sudden  illness 
had  reduced  me  extremely,  however,  as  I  found  whenever 
I  attempted  any  exertion,  and  all  Kitty's  services  were  re 
quired. 

While  she  was  dressing  me,  she  chatted  very  confiden 
tially,  though  always  with  a  tone  of  deference  that  counter 
balanced  the  liberty  she  took  in  talking  at  all.  Our  distaste 
for  Mrs.  Roberts  was  potent  in  putting  us  on  as  good  terms 
as  young  lady  and  young  lady's  maid  could  well  be,  and 
there  is  a  sort  of  freemasonry  in  youth  that  sets  at  defiance 
the  restrictions  of  rank,  and  that  drew  us,  the  two  youngest 
things  in  the  stately  old  house,  together,  naturally  and  irre 
sistibly. 

I  call  it  an  old  house,  because  it  impressed  me  at  first  as 
such.  It  was  solid  and  dark,  and  excepting  my  room  and 
one  or  two  others  on  the  same  floor,  had  very  little  that  waa 
light  and  modern-looking  about  it.  It  had  been  built,  Kitty 
said,  in  the  time  of  Mr.  Rutledge's  father,  and  was  called  the 

82 


KUTLEDGE.  #3 

finest  house  in  the  country.  Loads  of  money,  she  informed 
me,  he  had  spent1-  upon  it ;  workmen  had  been  sent  for,  hun 
dreds  of  miles,  to  do  the  carving  and  paint  the  walls,  and  no 
money  and  no  labor  was  spared  to  make  it  a  fine  place,  and 
indeed  there  was  none  like  it  anywhere  around  ;  and  now  to 
think  of  its  being  shut  up  like  a  prison  half  the  year,  and 
sometimes  all  the  year ;  it  was  a  shame,  Kitty  thought,  upon 
her  honor  it  was. 

1  asked  her  why  Mr.  Rutledge  did  not  live  there  ? 

She  did  not  know  ;  she  supposed  it  was  lonesome ;  he  nevei 
stayed  home  for  over  a  couple  of  months,  and  then  would  bo 
off,  for  no  one  knew  how  long.  Sometimes  he  went  to  Eu 
rope,  and  was  gone  two  or  three  years  at  a  time.  And  such 
dull  times  as  it  was  then  at  Rutledge,  if  you  please  !  No 
body  but  Mrs.  Roberts,  and  the  cook,  and  dairy- worn  an, 
besides  the  farm  hands.  Nothing  to  do  but  stand  Mrs. 
Roberts'  preaching  from  morning  till  night.  She  only  wished 
she'd  lived  in  the  old  times  that  her  father  talked  about, 
when  Rutledge  was  the  gayest  of  the  gay.  (Her  father,  she 
explained,  had  been  gardener  there  for  thirty  years,  and  had 
lived  on  the  place  from  a  boy.)  Such  fine  doings !  Ah !  if 
Mr.  Rutledge  would  only  take  it  into  his  head  to  have  such 
times  now  !  It  was  when  he  was  very  young,  and  Mr. 
Richard  and  Miss  Alice,  and  there  was  nothing  but  balls  and 
picnics  and  pleasure-parties  all  the  time,  company  staying  in 
the  house,  and  visitors  from  the  neighborhood  for  miles 
around.  Ah  !  it  was  mighty  different  now  ! 

"  What  has  become  of  the  others  ?  Is  Mr.  Rutledge  the 
only  one  left  ?" 

Mr.  Rutledge,  Kitty  told  me,  was  the  youngest  of  the 
three.  Mr.  Richard  died  when  he  was  just  twenty-four — a 
month  after  his  father — and  so  Mr.  Rutledge  came  into  the 
property  when  he  was  a  mere  lad. 

"  But  the  daughter,  Alice,  what  became  of  her  ?" 

"  I  don't  know  exactly,"  said  Kitty,  lowering  her  voice, 
and  looking  anxiously  toward  the  door.  "  They  never  talfc 

2* 


84  KTJTLEDGE. 

about  her  ;  something  must  have  happened  very  strange,  for 
there's  always  a  mystery  about  Miss  Alice.  The  old  servants 
on  the  place  will  never  say  a  word  about  her  ;  and  though 
['ve  teased  father  again  and  again,  I  never  could  get  any 
thing  out  of  him." 

"But,  Kitty,"  I  exclaimed  eagerly,  my  curiosity  tho 
roughly  excited,  "  what  makes  you  think  she  isn't  dead  ?" 

"  Oh !  that  much  I  know,  that  she  didn't  die  then,  and 
that  she  didn't  die  at  home  in  this  house,  and  isn't  buried 
there  below  in  the  churchyard  by  the  others  ;  and  I  know 
she  was  away  when  old  Mr.  Rutledge  died ;  because  once 
father  said  it  was  an  awful  thing,  when  he  lay  so  ill,  and  out 
of  his  head,  to  hear  him  call  upon  her  to  come  home.  Al" 
that  night  before  he  died,  he  would  call  '  Alice  !  Alice !'  til 
you  could  hear  it  all  over  the  house.  And  father  says,"  con 
tinued  the  girl,  in  a  still  lower  tone,  "  that  sometimes  of  wilt 
dark  nights,  when  he's  coming  past  the  house  late  from  hi 
work,  he  could  swear  for  all  the  world  that  he  hears  the  old 
man  still  calling  '  Alice  !  Alice  !'  till  it  makes  his  blood  freeze 
to  listen  to  it.  And  then,  when  I  say  'Where  was  she, 
father,  all  the  time,  and  why  didn't  she  come  ,to  him  ?'  he 
always  says,  '  that's  not  for  the  like  of  you  to  hear  about ; 
it's  none  of  your  business,  child,  nor  mine,'  and  sends  me  off 
about  something  else." 

"But,  Kitty,"  I  persisted,  "is  that  all  you  know  of  her? 
Tell  me  all  you've  ever  heard  ;  was  she  pretty  ?" 

"  Oh,  so  pretty !  You  can't  think  how  white  her  skin 
was,  and  her  eyes  like  violets,  so  large  and  blue,  and  curls  all 
over  her  head — loose,  shiny  curls." 

"  How  do  you  know,"  I  said  quickly ;  "  surely  you  never 
Baw  her,  did  you  ?" 

Kitty  blushed  and  stammered,  and  said,  "No,  not  ex 
actly  ;  but  there  was  something  she  had  seen  she'd  never 
told  anybody  about ;  she  didn't  know  whether  she  ought 
to  ;"  but  the  result  \vas,  she  at  last  imparted  to  me  the  fol- 
lowing : 


RUTLEDGE.  85 

••  When  Kitty  was  about  twelve  years  old,  it  appeared, 
from  her  account,  the  demon  of  curiosity  was  stronger  in 
her  even  than  it  was  now,  and  her  keen  young  eyes  had  de 
tected  long  before  that  time,  what  had  escaped  manymaturer 
observers,  viz.,  that  at  the  end  of  the  upper  hall  thero  was  a 
room,  that  was  ignored  in  all  descriptions  of  the  house,  and 
might  well,  indeed,  have  been  overlooked.  A  huge  ward 
robe  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  space  between  the  corner 
room  on  the  east,  and  the  corner  room  on  the  west,  of  the 
hall ;  and  none  but  a  very  inquiring  mind  like  Kitty's  would 
have  investigated  the  exact  dimensions  of  these  rooms,  whe 
ther  they  met  and  were  separated  but  by  a  partition,  or 
whether  a  distinct  room,  the  width  of  the  hall,  and  corres 
ponding  to  Mr.  Rutledge's  dressing-room  at  the  opposite 
end,  existed  between  them.  Kitty  crept  down  on  the  lawn 
and  looked  up  on  the  outside,  and  discovered  a  large  win 
dow,  the  shutters  of  which  were  closed  and  dusty ;  and  on 
exploring  the  corner  rooms,  they  corroborated  her  suspi 
cions — they  did  not  extend  across  the  hall.  Behind  that 
wardrobe,  Kitty  knew,  then,  existed  a  door ;  and  night  and 
day  the  insane  desire  to  penetrate  beyond  it,  haunted  the 
child. 

At  length,  circumstances  seemed  to  favor  the  fulfillment 
of  her  wishes.  It  was  a  beautiful,  mild  May  day,  and  the 
untiring  energy  of  Mrs.  Roberts  was  enjoying  a  full  swing 
in  the  pursuit  of  her  favorite  divertissement  of  house-clean 
ing.  Doors  and  windows  were  thrown  open ;  all  manner 
of  scouring  and  scrubbing  was  going  on  in  all  parts  of  the 
house.  Step-ladders  and  water-pails  graced  the  hall ;  the 
odor  of  soap-suds  and  lime  filled  the  air.  Serene  amid  the 
confusion,  Mrs.  Roberts  applied  herself  to  the  overlooking 
and  rearranging  the  identical  wardrobe  in  the  hall,  that  had 
so  long  been  the  fascination  and  torment  of  little  Kitty, 
who,  it  may  well  be  supposed,  was  "  on  hand  "  during  the 
operation.  Demure  and  useful,  she  made  herself  very  offi 
cious  in  assisting  Mrs.  Roberts  in  her  labors,  standing,  for 


86  RTJTLEDGE. 

hours  together,  to  be  loaded  with  the  heavy  piles  of  rich 
old  curtains  from  the  shelves,  faded  long  ago,  and  anti 
quated  table-covers,  heavy  Marseilles  coverlets,  that  must 
have  made  the  sleepers  of  old  time  ache  to  turn  over  under ; 
great  packages  folded  up  in  linen,  through  the  ends  of 
which  Kitty's  eager  eyes  caught  glimpses  of  satin  and  bro 
cade,  and  the  tarnished  buttons  of  military  clothes.  Kitty 
never  thought  of  her  aching  arms,  or  her  tired  little  feet; 
she  never  took  her  eyes  away,  and  never  lost  a  movement 
of  Mrs.  Roberts,  nor  a  sight  of  anything  before  her;  and 
after  dinner,  following  like  a  kitten  at  the  housekeeper's 
heels,  came  back  to  the  fascinating  business  of  disinterring 
the  faded  glories  of  the  past. 

By  three  o'clock,  the  shelves  were  all  emptied  and  the 
drawers  all  taken  out ;  and  Mrs.  Roberts  was  just  begin 
ning  the  important  business  of  dusting  and  wiping  them, 
and  restoring  their  precious  contents,  when  a  man  from  the 
fields  came  posting  up  to  the  house  in  the  greatest  haste, 
with  the  intelligence  that  a  pair  of  the  farm-horses  had  run 
away,  and  done  no  end  of  damage  to  themselves  and  to  the 
man  who  was  driving  them,  who  was  now  lying  below  the 
barn  in  a  state  of  insensibility,  and  Mrs.  Roberts'  assistance 
was  instantly  required.  It  was  not  a  case  that  admitted  of 
a  demur,  and  the  housekeeper  bustled  off,  leaving  Kitty 
with  orders  to  stay  where  she  was,  and  take  care  of  the 
things  left  about  till  she  came  back,  and,  taking  the  only 
woman  who  Avas  upstairs  with  her,  left  Kitty  in  possession 
of  the  field. 

She  did  not  mean  to  move  the  wardrobe,  but  it  was  so 
natural  just  to  try  how  heavy  it  was,  and  if  it  would  really 
stir !  And  to  her  surprise  and  guilty  pleasure,  the  ward 
robe,  lightened  of  its  weighty  contents,  yielded  to  her 
touch,  and  moved  a  little — a  very  little — way  forward ;  but 
enough  to  show  to  her  eager  eyes,  in  the  dark  wood-work, 
a  door,  over  which  generations  of  painstaking  spiders  had 
gpun  their  webs  unchecked,  and  where  the  scourge  of  Mr* 


JtUTLEDGE.  37 

Roberts'  eye  had  failed,  or  feared  tc  penetrate.  Kitty, 
holding  hsr  breath  for  fear,  turned  the  knob  ;  it  resisted  ;  it 
was  locked,  of  course,  possibly  on  the  outside,  and  the  key 
might  have  been  taken  out.  An  expedient  struck  th«. 
child's  fertile  brain;  and  she  darted  across  the  hall,  and, 
possessing  herself  of  the  key  of  the  corresponding  room, 
darted  back  again  and  applied  it  to  the  lock.  It  fitted,  and 
turned  in  it ;  the  knob  yielded  to  her  eager  grasp,  and,  too 
near  the  completion  of  her  wishes  now  to  pause,  she  wound 
her  lithe  figure  through  the  narrow  aperture,  and  pushing 
open  the  door,  stood  within  the  mysteiious  room !  For  a 
moment,  Kitty's  heart  beat  quick;  an  awe  crept  over  her ; 
for  a  moment  she  longed  to  be  out  in  the  sunshine  again 
But  her  elastic  spirits  and  indomitable  curiosity  soon 
triumphed  over  the  transitory  dread  inspired  by  the  dark 
ness  and  solemnity  of  the  deserted  chamber,  and  the  close, 
dead  atmosphere,  and  the  unearthly  stillness ;  and,  gaining 
courage  every  moment,  she  made  her  way,  with  what  caution 
she  might,  toward  the  window,  undid  the  fastening,  and, 
pushing  up  a  very  little  way  the  heavy  sash,  turned  the 
blind,  and  let  in  a  ray  of  God's  blessed  sunlight,  dim  and 
dull  enough,  though,  through  the  dusty  panes,  into  this 
strange  room,  deserted  these  maiiy,  many  years,  it  would 
seem,  both  of  God  and  man.  Kitty  was  a  bold  child,  little, 
given  to  nervousness  or  timidity,  or  she  would  have  shrunk 
in  terror  from  the  weird,  fantastic  shadows  that  the  dim 
light  showed  about  the  room.  But  that  was  not  Kitty's 
way ;  and,  sitting  dowii  on  a  divan  by  the  window,  she 
rested  her  elbows  on  her  knees  and  her  chin  upon  her  hands, 
in  contemplative  fasMon,  and  proceeded  to  look  about  her. 
What  a  strange  sight  it  must  have  been !  the  slow  sun 
beam  creeping  over  the  faded  carpet,  and  lighting  up  the 
dust-covered  furniture  and  the  dusky  walls.  Kitty's  glance 
first  turned,  naturally  enough,  to  the  bed,  which,  richly 
curtained  and  spacious,  stood  on  the  left  of  the  door.  The 
curtains  were  swep  back  and  the  bed  was  made,  out  it  was 


88  KUTLEDGnl. 

apparent  that  some  one  had  occupied  it,  lying  on  the  out 
side ;  the  pillows  were  displaced  and  crushed,  and  the 
coverlet  was  deranged.  That,  since  the  occupation  of  that 
some  one,  the  room  had  never  been  arranged  or  touched, 
seemed  evident,  from  the  confusion  and  disorder  that  pre 
vailed.  The  door  of  the  wardrobe  on  the  right  was  partly 
open,  and  a  dress  was  hanging  out  from  it.  A  shawl,  faded 
beyOnd  recognition,  hung  upon  the  chair  near  Kitty,  and 
at  her  feet  lay  a  slipper — such  a  slim,  pretty  little  slipper ! 
while  on  the  toilette  table,  you  could  have  sworn,  a  hasty 
hand  had  just  dropped  the  stopper  in  that  odor-bottle,  and 
pushed  back  the  glove-box  that  stood  open  under  the  glass. 

Pins  rusted  in  the  embroidered  cushion ;  dust  inch  thick 
on  the  mirror  and  over  all,  told  of  a  dreary  space  since  any 
human  face  had  been  reflected  there.  Upon  a  little  table 
by  the  window  stood  a  work-box  and  some  books,  and  in  a 
slender  vase,  the  ghosts  of  some  flowers  that  fell  to  dust  at 
Kitty's  touch.  But  what  most  excited  her  wonder,  was  a 
picture,  that,  with  its  face  to  the  wall,  was  placed  on  the 
floor  near  the  door.  It  evidently  did  not  belong  to  the  fur 
niture  of  the  room,  and  had  been  put  there  hastily,  and  to 
be  out  of  the  way.  Kitty  surveyed  it  from  her  seat 
curiously,  and  at  last  crept  up  to  it,  and  turned  it  around, 
then  slipping  down  on  the  carpet  before  it,  was  soon  lost  in 
admiration  of  the  lovely  face  it  presented  to  her. 

The  lustre  of  the  dark-blue  eyes,  and  the  delicate  outline 
of  the  oval  face,  from  which  large  wavy  curls  of  fair  hair 
were  pushed  back  with  girlish  freedom,  stamped  themselves 
indelibly  upon  Kitty's  retentive  memory.  It  must  have  been 
an  odd  sight ;  the  eager  child,  in  that  dark,  uncanny  room, 
upon  her  hands  and  knees  before  the  picture,  watching  it  in 
utter  fascination,  forgetful  of  the  passing  moments,  and 
of  all  save  the  sweet  face  so  strangely  banished  from  the 
light. 

But  the  heavy  shutting  of  the  hall  door,  and  the  sound 
of  voices  in  the  hall  below,  put  a  sudden  period  to  these 


BUT  LEDGE.  3tf 

fancies,  and  brought  her  to  her  feet  with  a  desperate  start 
and  a  pang  of  genuine  fear.  This  was  a  tangible  terror, 
and  as  such,  Kitty's  common  sense  succumbed  to  it.  With 
nervous  haste,  she  restored  the  picture,  flew  across  the 
room  and  drew  down  the  window,  and  made  the  best  of  her 
way  back  toward  the  door..  But  in  her  haste,  her  feet 
became  entangled  in  something,  and  tripping  up,  in  an 
instant  she  lay  at  full  length  on  the  floor.  She  disengaged 
her  feet  from  the  impediment  that  had  caused  her  fall ;  it 
was  a  long  ribbon,  and  a  locket  was  attached  to  it ;  hastily 
thrusting  them  into  her  bosom,  she  picked  herself  up,  and 
sprang  toward  the  door.  Steps  were  already  mounting  the 
stairs  ;  a  voice  she  knew  too  well  was  already  audible  ;  the 
unused  lock  grated  and  creaked  cruelly  under  the  nervous 
hands  that  struggled  with  it ;  but,  with  the  strength  of  ter 
ror,  she  mastered  it  at  last — locked  it,  dropped  the  key  in 
her  pocket,  slipped  through  the  narrow  space  between  the 
wall  and  the  wardrobe,  with  an  eager  push  restored  the 
latter  to  its  place,  and  before  Mrs.  Roberts  reached  the 
landing,  stood,  a  pallid,  trembling,  but  undetected  culprit, 
among  the  piles  of  valuables  she  had  been  left  to  guard. 
The  habitual  darkness  of  that  end  of  the  hall,  increased  by 
the  near  approach  of  twilight,  screened  her  white  cheeks 
from  the  scrutiny  of  Mrs.  Roberts'  searching  eyes,  and  the 
haste  that  lady  was  in  to  restore  the  wardrobe  to  its 
ancient  and  uninterrupted  order,  further  favored  her 
escape. 

But  she  fully  paid  the  penalty  of  hei  crime — she  acknow 
ledged,  in  the  dread  she  felt  lest  it  should  be  discovered, 
and  the  unaccustomed  alarm  she  endured,  when  on  dark 
nights,  her  ruthless  mistress  sent  her  candleless  to  bed ;  and 
she,  with  suspended  breath  and  strained  ear,  would  creep 
past  the  mysterious  chamber  to  her  own  little  loft  above,  to 
lie  whole  hours  awake  and  trembling.  Her  fertile  imagina 
tion  had  supplied  the  wanting  links  in  the  chain  of  fact ; 
and  the  fair-haired  Alice,  the  oanished  daughter  of  the 


4-0  BLTLEDGE. 

house,  was  lier  dream  of  beauty  by  day  and  her  haunting 
terror  by  night. 

"  But  Kitty,"  I  exclaimed,  breathlessly,  '  does  no  one 
else  know  of  the  room  ?  Does  no  one  ever  go  in  it  ?" 

"  Oh  yes !  Mrs.  Roberts  must  know  of  it,  for  she  lived 
here  long  before  the  present  Mr.  Rutledge  was  master ;  she 
knows  all  the  family  secrets,  I'll  warrant.  But  neither  she 
nor  any  one  else  ever  troubles  that  room,  I'm  pretty  sure. 
I've  watched  it  close  enough,  and  the  wardrobe  never  has 
been  stirred  since  that  day  I  did  it,  six  years  ago  last  spring. 
Hardly  any  one  goes  to  that  end  of  the  hall ;  the  corner 
rooms  are  shut  up  and  not  used,  and  Mr.  Rutledge's  own 
rooms,  and  Mrs.  Roberts',  and  this  one  for  visitors,  being 
all  on  this  side  of  the  house,  there's  very  little  occasion  for 
anybody  to  go  near  the  others  in  the  rear." 

"  What  was  in  the  locket  you  picked  up  ?"  I  asked. 

"  It  was  a  miniature,  tied  by  a  long  narrow  blue  ribbon , 
and  that  night,  when  I  got  upstairs,  I  bolted  the  door  and 
looked  at  it ;  it  was  the  picture  of  a  gentleman,  young  and 
•o" 


CHAPTER  TV. 

•5  The  deeds  we  do,  the  words  we  say-  - 
Into  stall  air  they  seem  to  fleet ; 
We  count  them  ever  past — 

But  they  shall  last — 
In  the  dread  judgment  they 
And  we  shall  meet !" 

LYKA  INNOCENT,  .UM. 

Bur  our  antiquarian  researches  were  brought  to  a  sudden 
conclusion  by  the  appearance  of  Mrs.  Roberts  at  the  door, 
whose  cold  eye  seemed  to  say,  she  comprehended  at  a 
glance  that  we  were  in.  mischief,  and  no  effort  should  be 
wanting  on  her  part  to  thwart  our  further  confidence. 
That  much  she  looked,  the  following  she  said : 

"  Mr.  Rutledge  desires  to  know  how  the  young  lady  i$ 
and  whether  she  is  ready  to  see  him  ?" 

"  She'll  be  ready  in  one  minute,"  said  Kitty,  hurrying 
nervously  the  retarded  business  of  arranging  my  hair. 
Mrs.  Roberts  stationed  herself  at  the  fire,  and  threefold 
increased  Kitty's  nervousness,  and  my  trepidation,  by  the 
stony  gaze  she  fixed  upon  us.  At  last,  however,  the  opera 
tion  was  concluded,  and  Kitty  helped  me  to  the  sofa,  and 
regulated  the  light  from  the  window,  put  away  my  dressing- 
gown,  and  gave  the  last  touches  to  the  room ;  while  Mrs. 
Roberts  looked  on  sardonically,  and  then  told  Kitty  to  go 
and  call  her  master.  I  had  hoped  this  order  of  things 
would  have  been  reversed,  and  that  Mrs.  Roberts  herself 
would  have  gone  to  summon  my  dreaded  visitor,  leaving 
me  a  moment's  time  to  recover  my  composure,  under  the 
genial  influence  of  Kitty's  sturdy  courage,  which  to  do  her 
justice,  she  had  not  long  been  disarmed  of.  As  it  was,  the 
housekeepers  efforts  at  conversation  were  not  of  an  enliven 

41 


4:2  RUT  I.  EDGE. 

ing  character,  her  first  remark  being,  "  that  Kitty  was 
much  of  a  chatter-box,  and  she  should  speak  to  the  master 
to  give  her  altogether  downstairs  work  to  do,  where 
there  would  be  nobody  to  be  hindered  or  bothered  by  her 
tattle." 

I  tried  to  remonstrate,  but,  for  my  life,  could  not  say  an 
audible  word,  and  nervous  and  trembling  to  an  absurd 
degree,  I  listened  tor  the  approaching  footsteps  in  the  hall. 
The  door  opened,  and  Mr.  Rutledge  entered.  Walking  up 
to  me  in  his  firm  quick  way,  he  said,  extending  his  left  hand ; 

"  Well,  my  young  friend,  and  how's  the  headache  ?"  I 
stammered  something  about  its  being  better,  while  he  sat 

O  O  7 

down  beside  me,  and  with  wonderful  tact  and  patience. 
tried  to  amuse  and  draw  me  into  conversation. 

Now  it  was  an  inexplicable  thing  to  me  at  that  time, 
that  I,  who  had  never  known  the  first  emotions  of  awe 
before,  in  presence  even  of  the  imposing  dignitaries  of  St. 
Cathai'ine's — I  who  had  pulled  the  wool  alike  over  the  eyes 
of  governesses  and  professors — I,  who  had  enjoyed,  if  ever 
any  did  in  that  establishment,  the  privilege  of  doing  as  I 
pleased,  by  reason  of  the  inability  of  anybody  to  prevent  me 
— that  I  should,  I  say,  be  so  utterly  subdued  and  humble, 
before  this  quiet  stranger,  was  an  inexplicable  thing  to  me.  • 

I  had  yet  to  learn,  that  those,  clothed  in  a  little  brief 
authority,  and  holding  temporary  sway  over  young  minds 
and  wills,  are  not  always  and  inevitably  so  far  exalted,  in 
intellect  and  in  character,  above  those  they  are  supposed  to 
govern,  as  were  to  be  wished,  and  as  they  sincerely  desire 
to  appear.  Narrow-minded  pedantry  and  injudicious  igno 
rance  often  rush  in,  to  responsibilities  and  duties  that 
angels  might  well  tremble  to  assume — the  moulding  for 
good  or  evil,  the  flexile  souls  of  children  during  the  most 
vital  years  of  their  lives. 

Be  this  as  it  may,  I  quailed  for  the  first  time  before  a 
superior,  and  not  without  a  stubborn  feeling  of  resistance, 
owned  myself  in  the  presence  of  one  I  feared.  I  suppose 


BU  PLEDGE.  4i> 

I  must  have  looked  very  childish,  with  my  hair  brushed 
down  simply  and  knotted  low  on  my  neck,  and  a  tiny  linen 
collar  turned  over  my  plain  blue  merino  frock ;  the  lava 
pin  and  earings  having  been  unavoidably  omitted  in  the 
hasty  completion  of  my  toilette.  These  circumstances  of 
dress,  I  comforted  myself,  might  account  in  part  -for  the 
manner  in  which  Mr.  Rutledge  continued  to  treat  me,  and 
which  was  very  galling  to  my  pride,  for  being  at  the  most 
sensitive  period  of  adolescence,  nothing  could  have  been 
more  humbling  than  to  be  regarded  as  childish  and  im 
mature.  Such  considerations  did  not  add  to  my  ease  of 
manner,  or  grace  of  deportment,  and  all  Mr.  Rutledge's 
well-selected  topics  of  conversation  fell  to  the  ground  foi 
want  of  a  sustaining  power  on  my  side.  At  last  relinquish 
ing  the  attempt,  he  turned  to  Mrs.  Roberts,  and  gave  her 
minute  instructions  in  regard  to  my  medicine  and  diet,  felt 
my  pulse,  and  pronounced  me  very  much  improved  ;  but  he 
judged  it,  he  said,  very  much  better  for  me  to  lie  on  the 
sofa  pretty  quietly  all  day.  Perhaps  by  to-morrow,  I  might 
be  well  enough  to  come  downstairs  for  a  little  while,  he 
continued,  looking  attentively  at  me,  to  see,  I  suppose, 
how  I  bore  the  intelligence  of  my  prolonged  captivity.  He 
did  not  see  any  expression  of  impatience  in  my  face,  how 
ever,  firstly,  because  I  did  not  feel  any,  and  secondly, 
because,  if  I  had,  I  would  have  concealed  it  to-day.  He 
rose  to  go,  first  turning  toward  the  bay  window,  where  he 
stood  for  some  minutes  thoughtfully,  attracted  by  the 
beauty  of  the  landscape  it  overlooked. 

"  After  all,"  he  said  at  length,  addressing  Mrs.  Roberts 
more  than  me,  and  his  own  thoughts,  perhaps,  more  than 
either,  "  the  view  of  the  lake  is  finer  from  this  window  than 
from  any  other  in  the  house.  The  slope  of  the  lawn  ia 
beautiful,  and  that  opening  in  the  pine  grove  on  the  left, 
through  which  you  see  up  to  the  head  of  the  lake,  is  very 
fine.  Mrs.  Roberts,"  abruptly,  "  do  you  remember  when 
that  opening  was  cut  ?" 


44  K  I/  T  LEDGE. 

"  Yes  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Roberts  (she  was  never  known  to 
have  forgotten  anything),  "  it  was  during  Mrs.  Rutledge, 
your  mother's  last  illness  ;  she  sat  a  great  deal  in  that  win 
dow,  and  your  father  had  it  cut  to  suit  her  fancy.  I  remem 
ber  the  very  morning  that  the  workmen  began  it ;  she  was 
so  interested,  and  quite  tired  herself  with  watching  them, 
and  sending  them  orders." 

"  Ah !  I  think  I  remember  something  of  it.  I  must 
have  been  " 

"  Just  eight  years  old,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Roberts  with  pre 
cision.  "  She  died  the  next  spring,  when  Mr.  Richard  was 
in  his  sixteenth  year ;  there  was  just  four  years  between 
you  and  " 

"  Yes,  I  know." 

A  dark  frown  contracted  his  brow ;  a  forbidding  com 
pression  of  the  lips  renewed  the  dread  that  had  begun  to 
lessen  under  his  patient  kindness.  During  the  five  minutes 
that  he  stood  thus  by  the  window,  we  were,  I  suppose,  a? 
entirely  forgotten  as  one  of  us,  at  least,  desired  to  be.  The 
trivial  Present  fell  back  into  insignificance  and  oblivion 
before  the  iron  domination  of  some  stern  memory,  that 
touched  with  ruthless  hand,  his  tenderest  affection,  that 
humbled  his  pride,  and  baffled  his  indomitable  will.  This 
much  I  could  see,  in  the  restless  light  of  his  dark  eye,  as  it 
wandered  over  the  familiar  scene;  child  as  I  was,  I  could 
not  but  see  the  suffering  in  his  face.  At  last,  with  an 
effort,  he  threw  off  the  tyrant  memory,  and  abruptly  turn 
ing,  quitted  the  room.  Something  almost  as  human  as  a 
sigh  escaped  from  Mrs.  Roberts  blue  lips,  as  his  steps 
echoed  across  the  hall,  and  his  door  closed  heavily. 

With  me,  the  day  passed  quietly  and  pleasantly  enough  j 
Mrs.  Roberts  took  the  precaution  to  leave  Kitty  alone  with 
me  as  little  as  possible,  always  managing  to  come  in,  when 
Kitty  had  got  nicely  fixed  with  her  sewing  at  the  furthest 
window,  and  find  some  excuse  to  send  her  away  for  half  an 
hour  or  BO.  But  as  Kitty  had  brought  me  some  books  fVoin 


K  D  T  L  E  D  G  K  .  45 

the  library,  and  as  I  felt  too  lazy  and  indifferent  to  object 
to  anything,  I  did  not  much  mind  her  surveillance. 

The  chicken  soup  that  Kitty  brought  me  for  my  dinner, 
wa°  the  very  nicest  ever  administered  to  hungry  convale 
scent  ;  and  after  the  meal  was  concluded,  and  the  afternoon 
sun  shut  out,  I  made  up  for  all  deficiencies  in  last  night's 
repose  by  a  very  satisfactory  sleep ;  from  which  I  awoke 
with  a  start,  to  find  that  I  had  slept  "  the  all-golden  after 
noon"  quite  away,  and  that  twilight  was  stealing  over  the 
quiet  lake,  and  the  rich  autumn  woods.  I  smoothed  back 
the  tumbled  hair  from  my  face,  and  leaning  against  the 
window,  looked  thoughtfully  out.  The  sun  had  but  just 
gone  down,  and  left  the  horizon  still  glowing  with  his  light, 
without  a  single  cloud  to  break  the  unruffled  calm  of  sky 
and  lake.  Not  a  breath  of  wind  stirred  the  dead  leaves 
that  lay  thick  beneath  the  trees  in  the  park — not  a  sound 
broke  the  stillness.  How  hushed  and  silent  the  dark  house 
was !  How  much  more  to  the  past  did  it  seem  to  belong, 
than  to  the  living  actual  present.  And  turn  my  eyes  or 
thoughts  whichever  way  I  might,  they  still  reverted  to  some 
tiling  that  would  remind  me  of  the  strange  storv  I  had  heard 

o  o  ** 

that  morning,  still  brought  before  me  the  desolate  room, 
where  the  dust  of  years  lay  on  all  traces  of  her,  who,  ban 
ished,  or  wronged,  or  fled,  had  darkened  forever  the  home 
she  left.  With  her,  it  seemed,  had  vanished  the  gaiety, 
the  life  of  the  house ;  following  fast  upon  her  absence  had 
come  death  and  desolation ;  and  the  sole  survivor  of  this, 
her  ancient  race,  grew  stern  and  silent  at  the  merest  allu 
sion  to  her. 

My  young  brain  grew  feverish  and  impatient  at  the  baf 
fling  mystery,  and  refused  to  entertain  any  other  thought 
or  interest,  A  vague  dread  and  superstitious  awe  crept 
over  me  as  the  twilight  waxed  dimmer  and  greyer,  and  the 
dying  fire  smouldered  on  the  hearth,  and  the  stillness  re 
mained  unbroken.  Where  was  everybody  ;  or  had  I  slept 
over  a  few  years,  and  were  they  all  dead  ?  And  was  I  the; 


46  RJTLEDGJS. 

only  living  thing  in  the  great  house — another  Princess  IR 
another  Day-dream,  only  wakened  without  the  kiss,  and  the 
prince  gone  off  in  a  huff? 

I  laughed  aloud,  but  my  laughter  had  a  very  hollow 
sound,  and  only  made  the  succeeding  silence  more  ghastly  > 
it  was  very  foolish,  but  I  was  exceedingly  uncomfortable. 
Why  didn't  Kitty  come?  I  could  not  find  a  bell.  I 
searched  in  vain  for  matches ;  the  fire  was  past  service,  and 
could  not  for  its  life,  have  raised  flame  enough  to  light  a 
candle.  Every  minute  the  room  grew  darker  and  chillier, 
every  minute  the  silence  grew  more  and  more  oppressive.  I 
began  to  think  of  what  Kitty  had  said  of  the  voice  that 
still  called  "  Alice  "  through  the  vacant  halls ;  and  then  I 
wondered  whether  this  were  not  the  very  room  in  which 
the  father  died ;  and  then  I  tried  not  to  listen  or  hear  any 
thing,  and  the  next  moment  found  myself  with  strained  ear, 
watching  for  the  lightest  sound. 

At  last  I  could  endure  it  no  longer,  and  groping  my  way 
to  the  door,  opened  it,  and  held  my  breath,  as  I  listened  for 
some  sound  to  indicate  that  I  was  not  the  only  thing  that 
breathed  and  lived  within  the  gloomy  walls.  But  such 
sound  was  wanting ;  a  more  vacant,  drearier  silence  reigned 
without  than  within  the  room ;  through  the  long  hall  and 
distant  corridors,  not  a  footfall,  not  a  motion ;  the  rustle  of 
my  own  dress  awoke  the  only  echoes.  I  dared  not  look 
toward  the  end  of  the  hall  that  I  had  learned  so  much  to 
dread ;  but  starting  forward  and  leaning  over  the  balusters 
I  called  "  Kitty,"  in  a  voice  that  would  fain  have  been  sten 
torian,  but  was  in  actual  fact  a  whisper.  No  answer,  of 
course,  and  the  faltering  whisper  seemed  to  float  down  the 
dreary  vacancy  with  mocking  lightness  and  unconcern.  1 
called  again,  this  time  desperation  overcoming  the  choking 
terror. 

Then  there  was  a  sound  of  some  one  moving,  a  door 
opened  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  hall,  a  light  appeared, 
and  Mr.  Rutledge's  voice  said,  "  What  is  it  ?" 


RUTLEDGE.  47 

What  was  it,  indeed  ;  it  would  have  been  difficult  to  say 
fust  what  it  was,  and  so  I  found  it. 

"  Oh !  it  is  you.   I  beg  your  pardon.   Do  you  want  Kitty  'f" 

I  said  yes,  and  that  I  had  been  asleep,  and  just  waked  up 
a  little  while  since,  and  could  not  find  any  matches.  My 
white  cheeks  told  the  rest.  Mr.  Rutledge  explained  that. 
Kitty  had  been  sent  to  the  post-office,  and  had  not  returned 
yet ;  he  was  very  sorry  she  had  not  been  at  hand  to  attend  t 
me,  and  coming  across  the  hall,  brought  a  light  to  my  door. 
Very  much  ashamed  of  my  fears,  I  went  in  to  get  my  candle. 

"  Why,"  he  said,  looking  in ;  "  your  fire  is  all  out,  it  looka 
dieaiy  enough  ;  I  am  afraid  you  will  take  cold.  You  had 
better  come  down  to  the  library  and  have  tea  with  me. 
How  will  that  do  ?" 

"  It  will  do  very  well,"  I  said  decidedly ;  for  as  to  stay 
ing  up  there  all  alone  till  Kitty  came  back,  it  was  not  to  be 
thought  of,  and  folding  my  shawl  around  me,  I  stepped  out 
into  the  hall,  and  with  great  satisfaction,  shut  the  door  of 
my  room,  and  followed  Mr.  Rutledge  through  the  hall  and 
down  the  stairs.  I  kept  pretty  close  to  him,  a«  we  de 
scended  into  the  vast  chilly-looking  lower  hall,  but  the 
coldness  of  its  marble  pavement,  and  the  darkness  of  its 
heavy  panels,  only  made  the  library,  as  we  entered  it, 
doubly  attractive.  The  fire  that  would  have  made  any 
other  room  uncomfortable  at  that  season  of  the  year,  only 
warmed  pleasantly  the  wide  and  lofty  apartment.  As 
Kitty  said,  "those  great  windows  let  in  no  end  of  air, 
and  it  took  a  power  of  wood  to  make  it  fit  to  stay  in." 
And  a  "  power  of  wood  "  now  lay,  "  a  solid  core  of  heat " 
upon  the  hearth,  casting  a  warm  glow  over  the  book  cases 
that  lined  the  walls,  and  the  huge  windows  with  their-crim- 
son  drapery.  The  room  delighted  me ;  there  was  such  an 
air  of  comfort  and  elegance  about  it,  and  the  warm  fire  and 
bright  lamp  took  from  it  the  look  of  old-fashioned  grandeiu 
that  is  so  comfortless,  but  so  universal,  in  houses  that  hai  e 
remained  unchanged  for  a  generation  or  BO. 


48  KUTLEDGK. 

"  What  a  delightful  room !"  I  could  not  help  exclaiming, 
as  my  eyes  wandered  eagerly  over  the  long  rows  of  books, 
that  stood  one  above  another,  from  floor  to  ceiling,  in  every 
variety  of  binding,  from  the  dusky  calf  of  a  hundred  or  so 
years  ago,  to  the  elegant  morocco  and  gilt  of  to-day. 

"  Yes,  it  is  quite  a  delightful  room  foi  any  one  who  likes 
books,"  said  Mr.  Rutledge,  seating  himself  by  the  fire  ;  "do 
you  like  them  ?" 

"That's  rather  a  general  question,  sir,"  I  said,  walking 
up  to  the  case  on  the  right  side  of  the  fireplace,  where 
some  more  modern-looking  volumes  tempted  my  curiosity. 

"  So  it  is,"  answered  my  companion,  pushing  his  chair  a 
little  further  from  the  fire,  and  leaning  back,  shading  his 
eyes  with  his  hand.  "  It  is  rather  general,  I  admit ;  but  to 
reduce  it  to  a  more  particular  and  answerable  shape,  are 
you  fond  of  reading  ?" 

"  Some  sort  of  books  I  like  to  read,  sir." 

"  What  is  the  sort  you  like  ?" 

"  Why,"  I  said,  rather  puzzled,  "  I  like — why  I  can't  tell 
you  exactly — but  I  like  books  that  amuse  me,  that  are  not 
dry  and  stupid." 

"There  are  so  many  different  criterions  of  dryness  and 
stupidity,"  said  Mr.  Rutledge  with  an  amused  smile,  "  that 
your  answer,  I  must  confess,  doesn't  give  me  much  light » 
some  people  might  consider  as  highly  interesting,  you 
know,  what  you  and  I  might  look  upon  as  hopelessly  dry 
and  stupid." 

I  thought,  as  Mr.  Rutledge  said,  "  you  and  I,"  that  it 
was  very  polite  in  him  to  put  it  so,  but  that  he  probably 
knew  as  Avcll  as  I,  that  we  had  very  different  tastes,  and 
that  my  favorite  books  were  as  unknown  and  indifferent  to 
him,  as  his  literary  proclivities  were,  in  all  probability,  ele 
vated  above,  and  incomprehensible  to  me. 

"  For  instance,"  he  said,  "  I  like  natural  history.  Now, 
a  great  many  persons  think  it  very  dull.  How  is  it  with 
you  ?» 


BUT  LEDGE.  49 

u  That's  just  a  case  in  point,"  I  answered,  with  an  effort 
not  to  care  what  he  thought  of  me,  "  I  never  could  get  in 
terested  in  it  at  all." 

"  1  am  not  surprised ;  it  is  not  very  often  attractive  to 
those  of  your  age  and  sex.  Now,  leaving  off  the  '  natural,' 
perhaps  you're  fond  of  history  ?" 

I  reflected  a  moment ;  but  while  "  White's  Universal," 
and  "  Esquisses  Historiques "  were  so  vividly  fresh  and 
hateful,  how  could  I  honestly  say  I  liked  history  ?  Yet  I 
knew  there  were  some  historical  works  that  I  had  as  soon 
read  as  novels,  but  I  did  not  know  how  to  explain  it ;  so  I 
said,  "  I  don't  like  all  history,  by  any  means." 

"  Neither  do  I;"  said  Mr.  Rutledge  ;  "  we  agree  on  that 
point,  and  I  am  certain  we  shall  on  many  others,  if  we  can 
only  get  at  them.  Suppose  you  take  any  shelf,  for  instance, 
the  lower  one  on  your  right,  and  let  us  see  what  we  think 
of  the  contents.  What's  the  first  volume  this  way  ?" 

I  stooped  down  and  read  off  the  name,  "  Hallam's  Mid 
dle  Ages." 

"  Ah !"  exclaimed  my  interlocutor,  "  we  have  stumbled 
upon  history  in  earnest.  How  do  you  stand  affected  to 
ward  '  Hallam's  Middle  Ages '  ?" 

"  I  like  it  exceedingly,  sir."  I  responded  very  concisely, 
very  much  afraid  of  being  pressed  to  give  my  reasons, 
which  would  have  involved  me  in  utter  dismay  and  confu 
sion,  for  in  common  with  most  very  young  persons,  I  liked 
because  I  liked,  and  disliked  upon  the  same  discriminating 
principle. 

"  What  comes  next?"  asked  Mr.  Rutledge,  to  my  great 
relief. 

" '  Goldsmith's  Animated  Nature.' " 

"  Ah !  you  don't  like  that.    What  follows  ?" 

"A  long  row  of  '  Buffon,'  sir,  and  then  'Tytler's  Uni 
versal  History.'  I  haven't  read  'Buffon,'  and  I  think 
Tytler — well — very  nice,  but  tiresome,  you  know." 

"  Try  the  shelf  above." 

3 


50  RUTLEDGE. 

"The  first  book,  sir,  is  'Irving's  Goldsmith.'" 

"  Did  you  ever  read  it  ?" 

I  said  Miss  Crowen  had  given  it  to  me  to  read,  last  vaca 
tion. 

"  You  found  it  tiresome  ?" 

"  Tiresome  !  why,  sir,  I  think  it  is  the  nicest  book  in  tha 
world.  I  can't  help  thinking  how  Goldsmith  would  love 
Mr.  Irving,  if  he  knew  about  it !  Next,  sir,  comes  a  very 
pretty  copy  of  '  Macaulay's  Roman  Lays,'  and  five  volume? 
of  his  'Essays.'" 

"  Did  Miss  Crowen  give  you  Macaulay  to  read  ?" 

"  I  took  it  from  the  library,  and  she  did  not  mak  3  any 
objection." 

"  And  what  do  you  think  of  him  as  a  writer?" 

I  did  not  need  to  look  in  his  face  to  know  how  much 
diverted  he  was  at  the  idea  of  extracting  a  criticism  of  the 
great  historian  from  such  a  chit  as  I ;  and  summoning  a?l  my 
courage  to  the  aid  of  my  pride,  I  answered  steadily. 

"  If  one  of  my  '  age  and  sex,'  sir,  can  be  considered  to  have 
an  opinion,  I  should  say,  that  though  Mr.  Macaulay  is  pro 
bably  the  most  brilliant  writer  of  the  century,  he  is  the  one 
who  has  done  the  least  good.  I  don't  think  any  one  who 
has  the  least  faith,  reverence,  or  loyalty,  can  read  him  ex 
cept  under  protest." 

"  Which  means,"  said  Mr.  Rutledge,  "  that  you  and  Mr. 
Macaulay  are  so  unhappy  as  to  differ  on  some  points  of 
politics  and  theology,  n'est  ce  pas  ?" 

"  I  know  very  little  about  politics,  and  less  about  theo 
logy  ;  I  only  know  how  I  feel  when  he  calls  King  Charles 
the  First  '  a  bungling  villain,'  '  a  bad  man,'  and  says  even 
prettier  things  about  Lord  Stafford ;  I  know  it  vexes  me 
when  he  elevates  Cromwell  '  into  a  man  whose  talents  were 
equal  to  the  highest  duties  of  a  soldier  and  a  prince,'  and 
never  omits  an  opportunity  of  sneering,  with  a  mixture  of 
contempt  and  pity,  at  that  slow  old  instiiation,  the  Churcb 
of  England." 


BUTLEDGK.  61 

"  And  you  do  not  agree  with  him  ?" 

"  Agree  with  him !" 

"  What  sentiments,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Rutledge,  "  what 
sentiments  for  a  young  republican !  Do  you  mean  to 
tell  me  that  you  don't  look  upon  the  death-warrant  of 
Charles  as  the  'Major  Charta'  of  England  ?  Do  you  mean 
to  say  that  you  don't  regard  it  as  the  first  step  in  that 
blessed  march  of  liberty  that  is  regenerating  the  world  ?" 

"  A  blessed  march  indeed !"  I  cried  indignantly,  "  over 
the  dead  bodies  of  honor  and  obedience,  faith  and  loyalty  ! 
A  blessed  march,  to  the  tune  of  the  Marseillaise  and 
murder !" 

"  But,  my  young  friend,  how  do  you  make  that  view  of 
the  subject  agree  with  your  patriotism  as  an  American, 
and  your  veneration  for  Washington  ?  Were  there  no 
carcasses  of  deceased  obedience  and  loyalty  under  his 
chariot- wheels  ?" 

"  Grdce  d  Dieu  /"  I  cried,  eagerly,  "  it  was  Liberty,  but 
Liberty  with  a  different  cap  on,  and  marching  under  very 
different  colors,  that  Washington  fought  for ;  no  more 
the  same  deity  that  Cromwell  and  Robespierre  acknow 
lodged,  than  the  idol  of  the  Hindoo  is  the  God  we  wor 
ship  !" 

Mr.  Rutledge  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  begged  me  to 
explain  the  difference  to  him.  And  with  a  vehement  mix 
ture  of  enthusiasm,  ignorance  and  anger,  I  tried  to  explain 
my  meaning  to  him,  but,  as  was  not  difficult  to  foresee, 
made  but  little  headway  in  my  argument,  every  moment 
adding  to  my  adversary's  coolness  and  my  own  impatience. 
I  altogether  forgot  my  diffidence  and  alarm ;  I  Avas  too 
angry  and  excited  to  think  who  it  was  I  was  talking  to ;  I 
only  knew  he  was  opposing  and  tripping  me  up,  and  say 
ing  the  most  hateful  things  in  the  coolest  way,  and  exas- 
perating  me  to  the  highest  degree,  and  not  being  a  bit 
exasperated  with  all  my  saucy  replies  ;  and  it  was  not  till  I 
had  exhausted  all  my  combined  wrath,  and  logic,  that  I 


62  RCTLEDGE. 

caught  a  lurking  smile  about  his  mouth,  that  flashed  upon 
me  the  conviction  that  I  was  entirely  the  victim  of  his  wit, 
and  that  he  had  just  been  arguing  on  the  wrong  side  for  the 
sake  of  argument  and  amusement. 

"After  all,"  J  exclaimed,  "  I  believe  you  think  just  as  I 
do,  and  have  only  been  talking  so,  to  draw  me  out !" 

"  Why,  mademoiselle  !  How  can  you  suspect  me  of  such 
duplicity  ?"  he  said,  with  his  peculiar  short  laxigh. 

And  seizing  a  book,  I  sank  down  on  the  sofa  to  hide  my 
burning  cheeks  behind  its  pages.  How  angry,  frightened 
and  mortified  I  felt,  no  words  can  tell,  and  every  stealthy 
glance  I  obtained  of  my  neighbor  but  added  to  my  vexation. 
Wholly  absorbed  in  his  paper,  he  seemed  to  have  forgotten 
all  about  me  and  my  :ndignation ;  and  having  furnished  him 
with  half  an  hour's  amusement,  I  was  to  be  pushed  aside  to 
make  way  for  a  more  serious  train  of  thought,  such  as  was 
now  knitting  his  brow,  and  fixing  his  attention  over  some 
political  debate  or  Congressional  transaction.  I  might 
smooth  my  ruffled  temper  at  my  leisure ;  no  danger  of  inter 
ruption  or  observation ;  I  might  solace  myself  with  what 
consolation  was  to  be  found  in  the  reflection,  that  whatever 
I  had  said  savoring  of  exaggeration  or  absurdity,  was  by 
this  time  doubtless  entirely  forgotten  by  my  companion. 
But  it  was  a  slim  comfort,  and  could  not  displace  the  angry 
thought — what  business  had  he  to  catechise  me  so ;  make 
me  stand  there,  and  tell  him  what  books  I  had  read,  and 
then  lead  me  on  to  say  all  manner  of  foolish  things  ?  My 
cheeks  glowed  at  the  recollection.  There  was  one  comfort ; 
I  knew  enough  now,  never  to  let  him  have  the  amusement 
of  making  me  angry  again ;  he  should  never  hear  anything 
but  monosyllables  from  me  henceforth  I  would  be  ice  and 
marble  when  he  was  by. 

Presently  there  came  a  low  kno'ok  at  the  door,  and 
Kitty  appeared,  very  fresh  and  rosy  from  her  walk,  and 
entering,  laid  upon  the  table  some  papers  and  a  couple  of 
letters. 


RUTLEDGE.  53 

"  Ah !"  said  the  master,  in  a  tone  of  satisfaction,  reaching 
out  his  hand  for  them,  "  the  mail  is  late  to-night.  You  may- 
send  tea  up ;  we  will  take  it  here  this  evening." 

Kitty  looked  in  great  astonishment  to  see  me  downstairs, 
but  the  etiquette  of  the  place  forbade  anything  more  on  my 
part  than  a  glance  of  recognition,  and  Kitty  retired  to 
order  tea  sent  up.  Till  that  refreshment  arrived,  and  was 
arranged  upon  the  table,  Mr.  Rutledge  devoted  himself  to 
the  newly-arrived  papers,  of  whose  contents  he  possessed 
himself  with  surprising  celerity;  and  before  the  servant 
announced  that  tea  was  ready,  I  had  watched  his  eyes  scan 
rapidly  every  column  of  every  paper ;  and  looking  up  from 
the  last  one  as  Thomas  made  his  announcement,  he  laid  it 
aside,  and  turned  toward  the  table,  asking  me,  with  a  smile, 
if  I  should  mind  the  trouble  of  pouring  out  tea.  It  was  an 
attention,  he  said,  that  he  was  generally  obliged  to  pay  to 
himself,  but  it  would  make  it  much  more  agreeable  if  I  would 
take  the  trouble.  • 

I  took  my  place  behind  the  heavy  silver  service,  and  with 
fingers  that  trembled  very  visibly,  proceeded,  for  the  first 
time  in  my  life,  to  fin  that  womanly  office.  Mr.  Rutledge 
looked  on  silently,  and  without  note  or  comment  received 
and  drank  his  tea.  The  toast  and  cake  were  unpatronized ; 
Mr.  Rutledge,  I  am  inclined  to  think,  forgot  them,  so 
absorbed  did  he  appear  in  his  own  thoughts ;  and  I,  for  my 
Dart,  shrinking  behind  the  urn,  considered  myself  sufficiently 
taxed  in  swallowing  a  cup  of  tea,  which  almost  choked  me, 
as  it  was.  It  was  not  till  the  tea-things  were  removed  that 
Mr.  Rutledge  allowed  himself  to  open  his  letters,  doing  this, 
us  everything  else,  at  great  disadvantage,  and  with  some 
effort,  with  his  left  hand.  I  resumed  rny  book,  and  did  not 
raise  my  eyes,  till  some  time  having  elapsed,  Mr.  Rutledge, 
rising,  handed  me  a  letter,  which  he  said  had  come  inclosed 
to  him  in  one  he  had  just  received  from  my  aunt.  I  opened 
it  with  considerable  interest,  and  looking  up  from  the 
reading  of  it  with  a  smile,  met  Mr.  Rutledge' s  eye,  who  said 


54  RUTLEBGE. 

"  Mrs.  Churchill  seems  to  be  very  much  alarmed  about, 
you.  I  think  it's  quite  lucky  that  sho  was  prevented  from 
coming  on  in  person,  for  she  would  have  considered  herself 
basely  deceiv  3d,  I  am  afraid,  if  she  had  dropped  in  upon  us 
this  evening ;  the  two  objects  of  her  solicitude  taking  tea 
comfortably  downstairs,  in  the  apparent  enjoyment  of  unin 
terrupted  health.  My  bandaged  arm,  I  believe,  is  the  only 
visible  reminder  of  the  accident." 

"  How  is  it  to-day,  sir  ?"  I  asked,  rather  faintly. 

He  looked  a  little  inclined  to  smile,  remembering,  no 
doubt,  that  this  was  the  first  time  I  had  vouchsafed  an  in 
quiry  concerning  it ;  but  he  answered  very  civilly,  that  it 
was  rather  painful :  whether  old  Sartain  had  made  some 
blunder  in  setting  it,  or  whether  he  had  not  kept  it  suffi 
ciently  quiet,  he  could^not  tell.  However,  he  had  no  doubt 
it  would  soon  be  all  right,  etc. 

Therewith  he  dismissed  the  subject  ;  but  I  could  not  dis 
miss  so  easily,  a  little  feeling  of  remorse  for  my  selfishness 
and  thoughtlessness  ;  and  he  had  been  so  careful  of  my  com 
fort,  too  !  Perhaps  from  that  reflection,  I  was  very  prompt 
to  drop  my  book  in  my  lap,  and  be  very  attentive  to  his 
first  remark,  as,  pushing  away  the  pile  of  letters  and  papers, 
he  leaned  thoughtfully  back  in  his  chair,  and  said  : 

"  You  have  not  seen  your  annt  for  a  long  time,  have  you  ?" 

"  It  is  rather  more  than  five  years,  sir,  since  I  have  seen 
her." 

"  Have  you  been  at  school  all  that  time  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir ;  I  have  been  there  vacations  and  all.  Aunt 
Edith  went  away  the  year  after  I  was  put  there,  and  only 
came  back  last  spring." 

"  Josephine  is  considerably  older  than  you,  is  she  not  ?" 

"Just  two  years,  sir  ;  Josephine  was  nineteen  last  month, 
and  I  shall  be  seventeen  the  28th  of  December,  and  Grace  ia 
eighteen  months  younger." 

"  I  suppose  you  remember  them  quite  well  ?" 

i;  Not  very,  sir ;  I  have  never  seen  a  great  deal  of  them 


RUTLEDGE.  55 

Vl  <i  lived  in  the  country,  and  excepting  when  we  went  to 
town  for  a  visit,  we  were  not  together.  You  met  them 
abroad,  did  you  not,  sir  ?" 

"  Yes  ;  we  travelled  through  Switzerland  together,  and  I 
saw  them  very  frequently  last  winter  in  Paris." 

"Oh  !"  I  exclaimed,  eagerly,  quite  forgetting  my  dignified 
.^solutions,  "  do  tell  me  about  them.  Is  Josephine  taller 
than  I,  and  is  she  pretty?  They  say  she  sings  so  beauti 
fully  !  Does  she  ?" 

"  Where  shall  I  begin  ?"  he  said,  with  a  smile.  "  Such 
an  avalanche  of  questions  overwhelms  me.  First,  as  to 
height;  well  (thoughtfully),  let  me  consider.  It  is  difficult 
to  judge.  Stand  up,  and  let  me  see  how  tall  you  are." 

I  sprang  up,  in  perfectly  good  faith,  and  stood  erect  before 
him  for  three  full  minutes,  while,  with  a  critical  eye,  he  sur 
veyed  me  from  head  to  foot. 

"  I  should  say,"  he  continued  very  deliberately,  while  I  re 
sumed  my  seat,  "  I  should  say  tha,t  there  was  not  the  differ 
ence  of  an  eighteenth  of  an  inch  between  you." 

"Really?"  I  exclaimed.  "Why,  isn't  that  odd!  It's 
very  nice,  isn't  it,  for  us  to  be  so  near  alike  ?" 

"  I  did  not  say  you  were  near  alike." 

"  Oh,  but  in  size  I  mean.  I  know  we  don't  look  alike. 
Josephine  used  to  be  such  a  thin,  dark,  old-looking  little 
girl,  that  I  cannot  imagine  her  tall  and  grown-up." 

"  I  think,"  continued  Mr.  Rutledge,  "  that  she  is  still  ra 
ther  slighter  than  you  are  ;  though  your  additional  shade  of 
health  and  robustness  will,  I  fancy,  soon  be  lost,  under  the 
influence' of  town  habits  and  constant  dissipation." 

"  Are  they  very  gay  ?  Does  my  aunt  go  a  great  deal  into 
society  ?"  I  asked. 

"  They  did  in  Paris,  and  I  fancy  it  will  be  the  same  in 
New  York.  In  fact,  there  is  little  doubt  of  it." 

"  I  wonder,"  I  said,  leaning  my  cheek  on  my  hand,  and 
looking  thoughtfully  into  the  fire — "  I  do  so  wonder  whether 
I.  shall  like  it." 


S6  R  O  T  L  E  D  G  E  . 

';  Ah  !  my  child,"  he  said  rather  sadly,  "  you  ueed  not 
waste  much  wonder  upon  that ;  you  will  like  it  but  too  well. 
Wonder,  with  a  shudder  and  a  prayer,  how  you  will  bear 
the  ordeal." 

He  sighed,  and  pressed  his  hand  for  a  moment  before  his 
eyes ;  then  catching  my  wistful  look,  he  continued  in  a 
lighter  tone : 

"  But  I  do  not  mean  to  frighten  you  ;  people,  you  know, 
are  very  apt  to  preach  against  what  they  are  tired  of,  and 
inveigh  against  the  world  after  they  have  '  been  there,'  and 
have  seen  its  best  and  its  worst,  and  tasted  eagerly  of  both ; 
and  have  spent  years  in  its  service,  and  are  only  disgusted 
when  they  find  that  it  will  yield  them  no  more.  They  have 
no  right  to  discourage  you  young  things,  just  on  the  thres 
hold,  eager  and  impatient  for  you  don't  know  what  of  glory 
and  delight." 

"  Why,  yes ;  I'm  sure  they  have  a  right  to  warn  us,  if 
they  see  our  danger.  I  am  sure  it  is  their  duty." 

"  Oh!"  he  said,  with  one  of  his  quick  laughs,  "it  would 
oe  a  thankless  task ;  they  would  not  be  heeded.  You  all 
have  to  go  through  it,  and  how  you  come  out  is  only  a  ques 
tion  of  degree — some  more,  and  some  less  tainted — accord 
ing  to  the  stuff  you're  made  of." 

"  I  don't  want  to  believe  that." 

"  You  want  to  believe,  I  suppose,  that  you  can  go  into 
the  fire  and  not  be  burned ;  that  you  can  go  into  the  world 
and  not  grow  worldly ;  that  you  can  spend  your  youth  in 
vanity,  and  not  reap  vexation  of  spirit ;  that  you  can  go 
cheek  by  jowl  with  hollowness,  and  falsehood,  and  corrup 
tion,  and  yet  keep  truth  and  purity  in  your  heart!  You 
want  to  believe  this,  my  little  girl,  but  you  must  go  to 
some  one  who  has  seen  less,  or  seen  it  with  different  eyes 
from  me,  to  hear  it." 

"  I  want  to  believe  the  truth,  whether  it's  easy  or  hard,, 
and  I  had  rather  know  it  now,  at  the  beginning,  if  I've  got 
to  know  it,  than  when  it  is  forced  upon  me  by  experience  " 


RUT  LEDGE.  57 

"  Wisel}  said,  ma  petite ;  self-denial,  Lard  as  it  is,  is 
easier  than  repentance ;  but  there  are  few  of  us  who  would 
not  rather  take  our  chances  for  escaping  repentance  and 
'  dodge '  the  self-denial,  too.  Is  not  that  the  way  ?" 

"  I  don't  know ;  I  suppose  so.  But,  if  the  world  is  really 
as  dangerous  as  you  say,  why  should  kind  mothers  and 
friends  take  the  young  girls  they  have  the  charge  of,  into 
it  ?  Why  should  my  aunt,  for  instance,  take  Josephine  into 
society,  the  very  gayest  and  most  brilliant  ?" 

An  almost  imperceptible  smile  flitted  across  my  com 
panion's  face  at  my  question,  but  he  answered  quite 
seriously : 

"A  great  many  different  motives  actuate  parents;  the 
principal,  I  suppose,  are  such  as  these :  The  children,  they 
reason,  are  young,  and  they  must  have  enjoyment ;  and  so 
they  cram  them  with  sweets  till  they  have  no  relish  for 
healthier  food.  Sorrow,  they  say,  comes  soon  enough ;  let 
them  be  happy  while  they  may ;  and  so  they  fit  them  for 
bearing  it  by  an  utter  waste  of  mind  and  body  in  a  mad 
pursuit  of  pleasure.  And  then,  they  must  be  established  in 
the  world;  their  temporal  interests  must  be  attended  to. 
And  the  myriads  offered  up  on  that  altar,  it  would  freeze 
your  young  blood  to  know  of!  And  then,"  he  continued, 
with  an  amused  look  at  my  perplexity,  "then  there  is 
another  very  potent  reason  why  they  cannot  be  kept  in  the 
nest — for  before  they  are  well  fledged,  the  willful  little  brood 
will  try  their  wings,  and  neither  law  nor  logic  will  suffice  to 
keep  them  back.  Now,  even  you,  sensible  and  coriectly- 
judging  young  lady  as  you  have  this  evening  discovered 
yourself  to  be,  would,  I  fear,  not  bear  the  test  of  a  tidal;  I 
am  afraid  your  courage  would  droop  before  the  self  denial 
of  the  first  oall  or  two,  and  you  would  soon  be  drawn  into 
the  vortex  without  a  struggle." 

"  I  don't  think  so,"  I  said.  "  I  am  pretty  sure  that  if  I 
resolved  not  to  go  into  society — being  convinced  that  ] 
ought  not — I  should  be  able  to  keep  my  resolution  And 

3* 


58  B  U  T  L  E  D  G  E  . 

even  ii  1  should  see  that  it  was  best  for  me  not  to  go  out 
till  I  am  older,  but  to  stay  at  home  and  study  and  improve 
myself,  this  winter,  at  least,  I  know  I  could  do  it.  If  I 
thought  that  balls  and  parties  were  wrong,  I  am  certain  I 
should  never  go  to  one." 

"  That  would  be  carrying  the  thing  too  far.  Do  not  sup 
pose  that  I  mean  anything  like  that.  "What  I  condemn  is 
the  wholesale  worldliness — the  unwearied  career  of  folly  that 
[  have  seen  so  much  of,  utterly  excluding  all  cultivation  of 
heart  or  intellect — utterly  ignoring  all  beyond  the  present. 
That's  the  snare  I  would  warn  you  of,  my  little  friend. 
I  know  perhaps,  better  than  you  do,  the  trials  that  lie  before 
you ;  so  when  I  tell  you  that  you  will  have  need  of  all  the 
courage,  and  self-denial,  and  resolution  that  you  are  mis 
tress  of,  to  keep  you  from  that  darkest  of  all  lives — the  life 
of  a  worldly  woman— you  must  remember,  I  have  seen 
many  plays  played  out — have  watched  the  opening  and 
ending  of  more  careers  than  one,  the  bloom  and  blight  of 
more  than  one  young  life." 

A  pause  fell — a  long  and  thoughtful  one — while  my  com 
panion,  shading  his  eyes  from  the  firelight,  gazed  fixedly 
upon  vacancy,  and  some  time  had  passed  before  he  shook 
off  the  momentary  gloom,  and  resumed,  in  a  lighter  tone : 

"  That  accident  was  a  miserable  business,  was  it  not  ? 
Keeping  you  a  prisoner  in  this  dull  old  place,  and  knocking 
I  don't  know  how  many  plans  of  mine  in  the  head.  And  it  is 
impossible  to  tell  how  many  days  it  may  be  before  I  am 
able  to  travel,  even  if  you  should  be.  Perhaps,  however,  1 
may  succeed  in  finding  an  escort  for  you,  as  I  suppose  you 
are  impatient  to  be  in  New  York." 

"  Oh,  I  beg  you  will  not  take  any  trouble  about  it ;  I  like 
it  here  very  well.  I  am  not  in  the  least  hurry,  and  I  hope 
you  will  not  go  a  moment  before  you  are  fit,  on  my  ac 
count." 

My  effort  at  civility  was  rewarded  by  a  smile  to  which  no 
one  i^uld  be  indifferent ;  and  w  reply,  Mr.  Rutledge  eaic1 


EUTLEDOE.  59 

ibat  lie  was  glad  to  find  me  so  philosophical ;  that  I  must 
amuse  myself  as  well  as  I  could,  and  he  should  tell  Mrs. 
Churchill,  when  he  wrote,  that  I  was  in  a  fair  way  of  being 
made  a  strong-minded  woman ;  between  Mrs.  Roberts'  aus 
tere  example  in  the  conduct  of  the  household,  and  his  own 
mvaluable  moral  lectures,  my  mind  would  be  in  no  danger 
of  rusting  during  my  captivity.  "  Not  to  mention,"  he 
added  gravely,  "  very  able  and  improving  mental  exercise  in 
the  criticism  of  the  most  eminent  living  historians." 

I  hung  my  head  at  this  last  cut,  administered,  however, 
so  daintily,  that  it  was  impossible  to  resent  it ;  and  being  on 
the  rack  till  he  should  get  away  from  the  subject,  I  quickly 
reverted  to  his  letter  to  my  aunt,  asking  when  he  should 
write,  and  desiring  permission  to  inclose  a  note  to  her  at 
the  same  tune.  He  should  probably  write  to-night,  he 
said,  glancing  up  at  the  bronze  clock,  which  pointed  to 
nine. 

"  Writing,  however,  with  my  left  hand,  is  a  business  re 
quiring  much  time  and  application,  and  possibly  I  may  not 
attempt  it  till  to-morrow  morning." 

Blushing  very  much,  I  said  I  wished  I  could  be  of  service 
in  writing  that  or  any  other  letters  for  him;  it  would  give 
me  great  pleasure.  He  thanked  me  for  the  offer,  but  con 
sidered  it,  he  said,  entirely  too  much  to  ask  of  me.  I  must 
remember  I  was  still  an  invalid.  I  laughed  at  the  idea,  and 
the  result  was,  that  in  five  minutes  I  was  seated  at  the 
library  table,  with  a  portfolio  before  me,  writing  a  letter  to 
my  aunt  at  Mr.  Rutledge's  dictation. 

I  was  in  high  spirits  at  the  idea  of  being  useful,  and  the 
pen  flew  over  the  paper  almost  as  fast  as  the  words  were 
uttered.  I  rather  writhed  under  the  necessity  of  writing 
without  demur  of  myself  as  "  the  tittle  girl,"  and  "  your 
young  niece ;"  but  there  was  nothing  to  be  said,  and  after 
finishing  it,  and  adding  a  few  h'nes  of  my  own,  I  enveloped 
and  directed  it.  I  asked  if  there  was  any  other  I  conld  write 
for  him. 


60  RUT  LEDGE. 

He  ftidd  there  was  one  he  was  anxious  to  dispatch  in  the 
morning ;  so  taking  another  sheet  of  paper,  I  began  another 
letter.  It  was  one  on  business,  full  of  law  terms  and  dry 
details,  but  fortunately  not  very  long,  and  writing  it  as 
rapidly  as  possible,  in  my  boldest,  freest  hand,  I  soon  laid  it 
ready  for  dispatch  beside  the  other. 

"  What  else  ?"  I  inquired,  taking  a  fresh  sheet  ol  paper. 

"  You  are  not  tired  ?" 

"  Not  in  the  least,  sir,"  and  I  rapidly  wrote  the  viate,  and 
with  my  pen  suspended  over  the  paper,  awaited  his  dictation. 

Without  a  word  of  explanation,  he  began  to  dictate  as 
quickly  as  before,  in  French.  For  a  moment  my  heart 
failed  me,  as  the  teasing  French  verbs  rushed  on  my  be 
wildered  ear  ;  but  rallying  instantly,  Avithout  raising  my 
eyes  or  giving  the  least  evidence  of  my  discomfiture,  I  be 
gan  to  write. 

Thanks  to  Mademoiselle  Celine's  drilling,  I  was  pretty 
ready  at  "  dictee,"  and  after  the  first  surprise,  got  along 
?ery  well.  It  was  quite  a  severe  exercise  to  keep  pace  with 
his  rapid  language,  feeling  all  the  while  as  if  an  error  would 
be  irreparable.  I  would  not  appear  to  read  it  over,  of 
course,  for  purposes  of  correction,  any  more  than  I  would 
have  done  the  English  ones.  I  managed,  however,  while 
looking  for  an  envelope,  and  wiping  my  pen,  to  glance  hur 
riedly  and  anxiously  through  it,  and  was  somewhat  com 
forted  to  meet  no  fault  apparent,  at  least,  on  such  a  rapid 
scrutiny.  I  folded  and  addressed  it,  not,  though,  without 
some  misgivings,  and  after  receiving  thanks,  and  a  refusal 
of  further  services,  glanced  at  the  clock,  and  rose  to  go  up 
stairs. 

Mr.  Rutledge  lit  my  candle,  and  as  he  handed  it  to  me, 
said  I  must  do  as  I  found  it  most  agreeable  about  coming 
downstairs  to  my  meal&,  He  should  be  most  happy  to 
have  a  companion  whenever  I  felt  well  enough  to  come 
down ;  but  Kitty,  he  hoped,  would  make  me  comfortable 
whenever  I  preferred  remaining  upstairs. 


EUTLKfcGE.  61 

]  bowed,  and  said,  "  Yes  sir,"  rather  unmeaningly,  and 
passed  out  of  the  door,  which  he  held  open  for  me,  and 
which  he  was  charitable  enough  not  to  shut  till  I  was  safe 
in  my  own  room. 

Kitty,  active  and  pleasant  as  ever,  awaited  me  there,  and 
I  threw  myself  in  the  easy-chair  before  the  fire,  while  she 
unbraided  and  combed  my  hair,  with  a  feeling  of  great 
comfort  and  complacency.  She  congratulated  me  upon 
going  downstairs ;  and  indirectly  and  respectfully  endea 
vored  to  ascertain  whether  I  had  found  master  as  formid 
able  as  I  had  anticipated.  I  did  not  wish  to  commit  myself 
on  this  point;  but  finding  that  Kitty  herself  stood  in  a 
little  wholesome  awe  of  him,  I  was  tempted  to  acknowledge 
that  I  did  not  feel  altogether  at  ease  downstairs;  upon 
which  she  said,  she  guessed  I  wasn't  the  only  one ;,  nobody 
on  the  place,  from  Mrs.  Roberts  down,  dared  say  their  soula 
were  their  own  when  Mr.  Rutledge  was  by. 

"  But  then,  he's  a  kind  master,  is  he  not  ?"  I  asked 

"  Oh,  yes !  None  better ;  that  everybody  knows.  He'b 
as  liberal  as  can  be ;  but  then  he  expects  everything  to  go 
on  just  so/  and  every  man  on  the  place  knows  that  he 
won't  put  up  with  a  bit  of  laziness  or  shirking.  And  BO, 
whether  he's  here  or  not,  things  go  on  like  clock-work,  and 
the  Rutledge  farm  is  a  perfect  garden,  everybody  says. 
Better  a  good  deal,  I  guess,  than  it  used  to  be  in  old  Mr. 
Rutledge's  time,  though  there  were  twice  as  many  men  on 
it  then,  and  twice  as  much  money  spent  on  it ;  but  there 
was  too  much  feasting  and  company  for  anybody  to  attend 
much  to  work,  and  I  suppose  the  old  gentleman  was  what 
they  call  a  high  liver,  and  cared  more  for  his  hounds  and 
horses,  and  dinner-parties  and  wine,  than  for  looking  after 
his  farm." 

"How  old  was  Mr.  Arthur  Rutledge  when  his  fathei 
died  ?" 

"  Oh,  a  mere  lad,  sixteen  or  so ;  and  for  a  time,  I've  heard 
them  say,  things  went  on  bad  enough,  nobody  to  look 


82  BTTTLEDGE. 

aftei  anything,  the  farm  just  going  to  destruction.  For, 
the  trouble  all  coming  together,  his  father's  and  Mr 
Richard's  death,  and  whatever  it  was  about  Miss  Alice,  it 
was  too  much  for  Mr.  Arthur,  and  brought  on  a  dreadful 
fever.,  and  for  weeks  they  couldn't  tell  how  it  would  go  with 
him.  Mrs.  Roberts  nursed  him  day  and  night ;  I  guess  she 
was  the  best  friend  he  had,  for  he  was  the  last  of  the  family, 
you  see,  and  hadn't  a  relation  in  the  world,  and  though  he 
had  plenty  of  fine  folks  for  his  acquaintance,  fine  folks  don't 
seem  to  think  they're  needed  when  people  are  in  trouble 
and  c*ome  to  die  ;  and  I  don't  know  but  what  they're  right ; 
they  would  be  rather  in  the  way.  However,  they  didn't 
have  much  to  do  for  Mr.  Arthur  that  time ;  and  at  last  the 
fever  turned,  and  he  began  to  get  better." 

Kitty  had  an  attentive  auditor,  and  she  only  too  willingly 
talked  on,  and  gave  me  all  the  facts  she  was  possessed  of. 
I  had  nothing  else  to  think  about  just  then,  and  so  it  was 
not  to  be  wondered  at  that  I  made  the  most  of  them,  and 
gave  many  an  hour  to  the  working  up  and  embellishing  of 
Kitty's  story.  I  pictured  to  myself  the  lonely  boy,  coming 
back  to  life  with  no  one  to  welcome  him  in  the  changed 
house.  I  fancied  him  pale  and  melancholy,  wandering 
through  the  deserted  halls  and  empty  rooms,  finding  at 
every  turn  something  to  remind  him  of  his  grief.  I  could 
not  blame  him  when,  as  my  informant  said,  he  grew  to  be 
morose  and  gloomy,  and  to  hate  the  very  name  of  home ; 
for,  going  abroad,  he  did  not  come  near  it  for  years,  and 
seemed  to  have  lost  all  interest  in  it.  The  estate,  during 
this  time,  was  managed  by  an  agent,  who  neglected  it 
shamefully,  and  in  whose  charge  it  was  fast  going  to  ruin. 

But  suddenly,  the  young  master  returned,  and  to  the  sur 
prise  of  all,  took  things  into  his  own  hands ;  dismissed  those 
who  had  been  living  in  idleness  at  his  expense  so  long,  only 
retaining  such  as  were  willing  to  conform  themselves  to  the 
new  regime,  and  by  industry  and  faithfulness  to  regain  what 
had  been  lost  during  this  long  period  of  neglect.  It  was  a 


KUT  LEDGE.  63 

reform  which  required  great  energy  and  perseverance,  but 
these  the  young  heir  possessed,  and  before  a  year  was  over, 
things  wore  a  very  different  aspect ;  the  house  was  repaired 
and  the  grounds  put  in  order ;  the  farm  began  to  show  the 
presence  of  a  master.  The  reform  did  not  stop  here,  how 
ever.  For  more  than  fifty  yeais,  there  had  been  no  church 
nearer  than  Hilton,  a  distance  of  six  miles,  which  the  family 
at  Rutledge  nominally  attended,  when  the  weather  was 
fine ;  but,  unhappily,  Sunday  and  Sunday  duties  were  by  no 
means  of  paramount  interest  at  Rutledge ;  and,  naturally, 
master  and  tenantry  fell  into  a  criminal  neglect  of  all  the 
outward  duties  of  religion.  In  the  village  which  lay  about  a 
mile  to  the  south  of  Rutledge,  there  had  once,  before  the 
Revolution,  been  a  church  edifice,  but  long  since  it  had  fallen 
into  ruins,  and  only  a  neglected  graveyard  remained  to 
attest  its  former  site.  Here,  Mr.  Rutledge  had  built  a 
church,  and  repairing  a  cottage  that  lay  at  the  southern 
extremity  of  his  farm,  and  not  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  the 
church,  had  turned  it  into  a  parsonage,  where  he  had 
established  a  clergyman,  who  had  labored  very  faithfully 
and  very  successfully  among  the  almost  heathenish  inha 
bitants  of  the  place,  and  had  immeasurably  improved  its 
character. 

"  But  still  you  say,  Kitty,  Mr.  Rutledge  does  not  live 
here  much  of  the  time.  I  should  think  he  would  be  happy 
in  a  place  where  he  had  done  so  much  good." 

Kitty  shook  her  head.  "  There  is  too  much  to  remind  him 
of  old  times,  I  suppose,  for  him  to  like  it  here  ;  besides,  it's 
very  lonesome.  He  does  his  duty  by  it,  but  I  don't  believe 
hi'll  ever  stay  here  more  than  he  thinks  he  has  to,  to  keep 
things  straight." 

I  reminded  Kitty,  by  and  by,  of  the  miniature  of  which 
we  had  been  talking  when  Mrs.  Roberts  interrupted  us  in 
vhe  morning. 

"  Should  you  like  to  see  it  ?"  Kitty  asked. 

"  Of  all  things,"  I  replied  ;  and  Kitty,  laying  down  the 


BUT  LEDGE. 

brush,  said  she  would  run  up  to  her  room  and  get  it.  Sh« 
stopped  a  moment,  after  she  had  cautiously  opened  the 
door,  to  listen  if  Mrs.  Roberts  was  still  awake,  then  leaving 
it  ajar,  stole  quietly  up  the  stairs.  My  heart  beat  guiltily 
as  I  listened  to  her  retreating  footsteps.  What  business 
had  I  to  be  prying  into  family  secrets  ?  I  was  involuntarily 
ashamed  of  myself,  but  how  could  I  help  it  ?  How  could  I 
resist  the  temptation  ?  It  could  do  no  harm ;  I  should  only 
just  look  at  it,  and  should  be  no  wiser  after  all.  It  seemed 
an  age  before  Kitty's  returning  footsteps  rejoiced  my  ear, 
and  I  did  not  feel  safe  till,  again  within  the  room,  she  slid 
the  bolt  behind  her,  and  put  into  my  hand  the  old-fashioned 
locket,  with  its  faded  blue  ribbon.  I  started  up,  and  going 
to  the  light,  bent  down  to  examine  it. 

"  It's  like  none  of  the  family,"  Kitty  said.  "  Their  pic- 
tares  are  in  the  dining-room,  and  I've  compared  them  all." 

It  certainly,  I  saw  myself,  was  not  in  the  least  like  Mr. 
Rutledge.  It  was  a  face  I  could  not  altogether  understand. 
The  eyes  were  dark,  and  perhaps  tender  in  their  light,  but 
about  the  mouth — and  a  handsome  well  cut  mouth,  too — • 
there  was  a  something  I  could  not  define,  that  suggested 
coldness  and  insincerity  ;  something  that  repelled  me  when 
I  first  looked,  but  seemed  to  disappear  after  a  longer  scru 
tiny.  The  features  were  regular  and  strikingly  handsome, 
the  skin  a  clear  olive,  the  hair 'dark  and  wavy.  As  far  as 
my  limited  knowledge  of  these  things  went,  what  was  vis 
ible  of  the  uniform  appeared  to  me  to  be  that  of  a  French 
officer,  and  the  letters,  in  tiny  characters,  engraved  on  the 
back,  "&  Paris,  1830,"  seemed  to  confirm  the  probability. 

"  Twenty-four  years  ago,"  I  said. 

"  That  was  the  year  before  old  Mr.  Rutledge  died,"  said 
Kitty. 

I  kept  it  in  my  hand  while  she  undressed  me,  and  only 
returned  it  to  her  as  she  was  leaving  me  for  the  night 
But  she  said, 

"  You'd  better  keep  it,  Miss,  if  you  will,  to-night.     I  ara 


B  U  A  L  E  D  G  E  .  65 

afraid  to  go  to  my  trunk  to  put  it  away,  for  Dorothy,  the 
cook,  sleeps  in  the  room  where  we  keep  our  trunks,  and 
she's  just  gone  upstairs." 

I  consented,  and  for  safety  put  it  under  my  pillow.  I 
wished  it  anywhere  else,  however,  after  the  door  had 
closed ;  and  Kitty  departing, 

"  Left  the  -world  to  darkness  and  to  m«." 


CHAPTER  V. 

u  Girls  blush,  sometimes,  because  they  are  alive, 
Half  wishing  they  wer^  dead  to  save  the  shame. 
The  sudden  blush  devours  them,  neck  and  brow 
They  have  drawn  too  near  the  fire  of  life,  like  gnata. 
And  flare  up  bodily,  wing»  and  all.    What  then  ? 
Who's  sorry  for  a  gnat — or  girl  ?" 

E.  B.  BKOWNINO. 

THE  question,  whether  I  should  breakfast  downstairs  or 
alone,  was  settled  by  the  ringing  of  the  bell  before  Kitty 
had  half  done  my  hair,  and  as  I  would  not  for  worlds  have 
been  two  minutes  late  at  any  meal  that  Mr.  Rutledge  was 
to  share,  I  determined  to  "  take  the  benefit  of  the  act,"  and 
remain  an  invalid  till  dinner-time. 

"  What  a  dismal  day,  Miss  !"  remarked  my  maid,  as  she 
made  herself  busy  in  removing  my  breakfast  from  the  table. 
"  How  shall  you  manage  to  amuse  yourself?'-' 

"  I  don't  mind  the  rain  in  the  least,".!  answered,  wheeling 
my  admired  chair  up  to  the  window,  and  throwing  myself 
into  it,  with  a  lapful  of  books  and  work.  "  I  think  a  rainy 
day  is  splendid." 

And  so,  indeed,  I  found  it  for  a  while.  I  read  till  I  had 
extracted  all  the  honey  from  the  pile  of  reviews  and  maga 
zines  before  me,  and  then  pushed  them  away,  and  leaning 
against  the  window,  gazed  out  on  the  dreary  landscape.  A 
sheet  of  rain  and  mist  hid  the  lake,  the  pine  grove  looked 
black  and  sullen,  the  trees  in  the  park  tossed  mournfully 
about  their  naked  branches,  as  showers  of  yellow  leaves  fell 
in  gusts  upon  the  ground  ;  the  wind  moaned  dismally  around 
the  house,  and  dashed  the  rain,  by  fits  and  starts,  against 
the  windows  with  a  heavy  sound.  It  was  very  nice  to  feel 
that  it  could  not  get  in,  and  that  there  was  stout  glass  and 

66 


BUT  LEDGE.  67 

stone  between  me  and  the  pitiless  autumn  storm,  and  a  snug 
and  cosy  shelter  from  its  fury.  But  by  and  by  I  grew 
rather  tired  of  watching  the  rain  and  the  leaves,  and  yawn 
ing,  began  to  cast  about  for  some  more  attractive  occupa 
tion.  This  I  found  for  a  short  time  in  my  worsted  work, 
which  I  disinterred  from  the  depths  of  my  trunk,  and  ap 
plied  myself  to  in  great  earnest  for  half  an  hour.  But  the 
motive  for  exertion  was  wanting  ;  I  could  not  help  thinking 
wearily,  that  there  was  not  the  least  hurry  about  finishing 
it,  and  those  roses  would  blow,  on  demand,  any  time  dur 
ing  the  next  six  years,  with  as  much  advantage  as  at  pre 
sent. 

And  so  I  laid  it  down  and  took  to  the  window  again, 
wondering,  with  a  sigh,  whether  all  young  ladyhood  were 
like  this  ;  and  if  it  were,  how  it  happened  that  we  did  not 
hear  of  more  early  deaths — deaths  from  utter  ennui  and  ex 
haustion.  I  had  for  so  long  been  used  to  having  every  half 
hour  in  the  day  filled  up  with  some  unavoidable  exercise  of 
mind  or  body,  that  I  felt  entirely  lost  without  the  routine, 
and  firmly  resolved,  as  soon  as  I  should  be  settled  at  my 
aunt's,  to  begin  a  course  of  study  which  should  fill  up  all  these 
idle  moments,  and  give  some  vigor  to  my  faculties.  "  I 
should  die  of  this  in  a  month,"  I  thought ;  and  seizing  one 
of  the  rejected  Reviews,  the  only  literature  at  hand,  I  reso 
lutely  set  myself  to  read  the  longest,  driest  paper  in  it. 
And  really,  after  the  task  was  accomplished,  though  I  am 
sorry  to  say  I  was  not  by  much  the  clearer  in  my  views  on 
the  particular  branch  of  science  of  which  it  treated,  still  I 
felt  decidedly  better  satisfied  with  myself  for  the  effort,  and 
experienced  less  compunction  in  taking,  after  lunch,  a  short 
nap. 

Kitty  had  been  absent  all  the  morning,  having  been 
detailed  for  some  pressing  laundry  work  by  the  practical 
Mrs.  Roberts,  for  which  I  was  still  owing  her  a  grudge, 
when,  just  as  I  awoke  from  my  nap,  she  walked  in,  and 
accepting  the  chair  I  offered  her,  made  me  quite  a  little 


OS  RUT  LEDGE. 

visit.  1  exerted  myself  to  appear  amiable,  and  was  con 
gratulating  myself  on  the  success  of  my  efforts,  and  on  the 
absence  of  all  disagreeable  topics,  when,  just  as  she  was 
going,  her  keen  eyes  having  made  the  circuit  of  the  room 
many  tunes,  she  detected  something  amiss  in  the  bed,  and 
walking  across  to  the  recess  where  it  stood,  began  to 
examine  the  manner  in  which  it  was  made. 

"  That  Kitty,"  she  said,  "  was  not  to  be  trusted  to  make 
even  a  bed  by  herself.  She  was  sure  I  did  not  lie  com 
fortably." 

And  stooping  down,  she  began  to  dissect  it.  My  heart 
gave  a  spasmodic  thump,  and  then  stood  "  stock-still  for 
sheer  amazement,"  not  to  say  consternation,  when  it  flashed 
across  me  that  I  had  left  the  guilty  miniature  between  the 
mattresses,  where,  in  the  sleepless  nervousness  of  last  night, 
I  had  put  it,  in  order  to  have  it  as  far  out  of  the  way  as 
possible.  It  was  the  strangest  thing  that  I  should  never 
have  thought  of  it  since  I  waked  up.  "  And  now,"  I  thought, 
with  a  cold  chill,  "  now  it  is  probably  under  Mrs.  Roberts' 
very  nose,  and  Kitty  and  I  are  undone."  I  hardly  breathed 
as  I  watched  her  throwing  back  blanket  and  sheet,  and 
making  sad  havoc  among  the  bolsters  and  pillows,  giving 
the  one  a  contemptuous  shake,  and  the  other  an  indignant 
poke ;  all  the  while  most  animatedly  anathematizing  the 
the  unlucky  Kitty.  I  had  already  pictured  Kitty  and 
myself  dragged  by  the  hair  of  our  guilty  heads,  before 
Mr.  Rutledge,  for  judgment,  and  terrified  into  confession  by 
that  awful  look  of  his,  when  to  my  unspeakable  relief,  Mrs. 
Roberts  stopped  just  short  of  the  mattress,  and  coming 
indignantly  across  the  room,  rang  for  Kitty,  who  promptly 
answered  the  bell.  She  looked  somewhat  blank  to  find  that 
the  summons  was  not  to  dress  me,  but  to  stand  one  cf  Mrs. 
Roberts'  tirades. 

Mrs.  Roberts  was,  I  believe,  troubled  with  rheumatism, 
"  the  worst  kind,"  and  the  cold  storm  and  east  wind  had 
aggravated  these  long-tried  enemies  to  an  unbearable  pitch. 


BUT  LEDGE.  69 

ami  it  was  well  known  in  the  house  that  there  was  but  one 
remedy  that  succeeded  in  the  least  in  allaying  the  irritation 
of  her  nerves,  but  one  soothing  panacea,  and  that  was,  a 
thorough  and  satisfactory  "  blow-out "  on  scolding ;  the 
raking  fore-and-aft  some  adversary's  craft  with  the  unerring 
fire  of  her  indignation,  the  entire  annihilation,  soul  and 
body,  for  the  tune  being,  of  the  victim  that  happened  first 
to  cross  her  path.  And  tradition  pointed  to  Kitty  as  the 
favorite  scape-goat  on  these  occasions.  She  knew  her  fate, 
I  am  certain,  from  the  moment  she  caught  the  dull  glare  of 
Mrs.  Roberts'  eye,  and  doggedly  tossing  her  pretty  head  to 
one  side,  stood  ready  to  confront  her. 

Did  she  call  that  bed  made,  Mrs.  Roberts  would  like  to 
know  ?  Kitty  considered  it  made — yes. 

She  did,  did  she  ?  Then  she  would  please  to  come 
across  the  room  and  try  if  she  could  do  it  as  well  the 
second  time. 

I  made  Kitty  an  agonized  gesture,  which  she  promptly 
understood,  but  which  Mrs.  Roberts  also  caught  sight  of, 
and  was  at  her  elbow  in  an  instant.  It  was  a  pretty  severe 
contest  of  skill  between  the  veteran  rat-catcher  and  the  keen 
little  mouser ;  Mrs.  Roberts  knew  there  was  something,  and 
inly  vowed  to  scent  it  out ;  Kitty  was  as  determined  to 
elude  her  vigilance,  and  as  is  not  unusual,  youth  and  dex 
terity  triumphed.  From  under  the  very  eyes  of  Mrs. 
Roberts,  Kitty,  under  cover  of  a  zealous  shake  of  the 
mattress,  bore  off  the  miniature,  and  smuggling  it  in  her 
apron,  passed  by  where  I  was  sitting,  and  threw  it  into  my 
lap.  I  thrust  it  down  to  the  lowest  depths  of  my  pocket,  and 
looked  with  admiration  at  Kitty's  unshaken  composure,  as 
she  continued  her  work  under  the  galling  fire  of  Mrs.  Roberts' 
sarcasms. 

The  bed  at  last  was  made  irreproachably;  even  Mrs 
Roberts  could  find  no  fault  with  its  unruffled  exterioi , 
though  to  my  unpractised  eye,  it  had  looked  much  the  same 
before  its  revisal.  It  seemed  a  long  time  before  the  antago 


70  BUTLEDGE. 

nists  withdrew,  and  a  longer  still  before  my  tranquillity  of 
temper  was  restored.  How  I  wished  the  miniature  safely 
back  in  Kitty's  trunk,  in  the  furthest  corner  of  the  attic  ! 
That  came  of  doing  what  I  was  ashamed  of!  I  did  not  feel 
as  if  I  could  look  any  one  in  the  face  till  it  was  out  of  my 
hands.  I  did  not  venture  to  ring  for  Kitty,  for  I  felt  certain 
Mrs.  Roberts  stood  with  the  door  of  her  room  ajar,  ready 
to  pounce  upon  her  if  she  came  in  sight  again ;  so  I  exerted 
myself  to  perform  the  duties  of  my  toilette  unaided.  They 
were  not  arduous,  and  I  was  soon  dressed,  and  vainly  try 
ing  to  interest  myself  in  my  embroidery  till  the  bell  should 
ring.  It  was  still  an  open  question  whether  I  should  go 
downstairs ;  I  half  inclined  to  playing  invalid  a  little  longer, 
and  taking  this  one  more  meal  in  my  room.  But  then  the 
dreary  prospect  of  my  solitary  dinner,  and  the  long  dull  twi 
light,  with  nothing  but  my  own  thoughts  for  entertainment, 
and  the  longer,  duller  evening,  with  nothing  to  amuse  but 
what  had  failed  of  that  object  during  the  day,  weighed  down 
the  balance  in  favor  of  a  change  of  scene,  and  I  was  on  my 
feet  in  an  instant,  as  my  watch  pointed  to  three,  and  the  bell 
announced  dinner,  simultaneously.  I  pushed  the  worsted 
into  my  workbox,  and  putting  the  miniature  hastily  into  a 
drawer,  essayed  to  lock  it,  but  the  key  was  defective,  for 
some  cause,  and  would  not  turn,  and  not  d:Ti«g  to  run  the 
risk  of  being  late,  I  again  put  it  into  my  pocket,  and  hurried 
down. 

As  I  reached  the  lower  hall,  I  remembered  that  I  had  not 
the  least  idea  which  door  led  into  the  dining-room,  and  so 
had  to  try  three  or  four  which  gave  no  evidence  of  being 
inhabited,  furniture  being  covered  and  windows  closed, 
before  I  hit  upon  the  right  one.  I  entered  hesitatingly,  not 
discovering,  till  I  was  fairly  in  the  room,  that  I  was  the  only 
occupant  of  it.  The  table  was  laid  for  two,  and  the  dinner 
was  already  served,  but  the  master  was  not  yet  down.  As 
gome  minutes  passed  and  he  did  not  appear,  I  had  time  to 
look  around,  and  get  acquainted  with  the  satte  d  manger 


BTTTLEDGE.  71 

It  was  a  fine  room,  old-fashioned  though  it  was;  and 
modern  architecture  has  still  to  produce  its  rival  in  my  eyes. 
The  ceiling  was  very  high,  the  fireplace  wide,  with  tiled 
jambs ;  the  wood-work  carved  in  stiff  but  stately  patterns  ; 
the  windows  were  deep,  with  enticing  window-seats,  and  the 
walls  were  covered  with  pictures.  Pictures,  I  imagined, 
of  people  who  had  once  owned  Rutledge :  some  of  them, 
perhaps,  lived  in  this  very  house,  ate  and  drank  in  this  very 
room.  There  were  several  portraits,  that  I  rather  hurried 
over,  of  pompous-looking  people  in  very  old-time  style,  but 
I  knew  in  a  moment  the  handsome  picture  over  the  mantel 
piece.  It  was  the  late  Mr.  Rutledge,  like  Mr.  Arthur,  but 
infinitely  handsomer,  on  a  larger  scale,  with  a  jovial,  pleasant 
face,  but  I  thought,  less  intellectual  in  the  expression. 
Then  I  was  certain  that  the  picture  on  the  right  represented 
Richard,  the  heir,  who  had  died  so  soon  after  his  father. 
Ah !  But,  I  thought,  what  a  handsome,  gentle  face ! 
What  soft  eyes !  If  Mr.  Arthur  had  only  looked  like  him, 
what  a  nice  thing  it  would  be  to  be  dining  tete-d-tete  with 
him.  Quel  dommage  !  If  he  had  only  lived !  But  I  felt 
inclined  to  laugh  when  I  remembered  that  his  younger 
brother  might  easily,  as  far  as  age  was  concerned,  have 
been  my  father,  and  the  handsome  Richard  himself  could 
almost,  well,  yes,  quite,  have  stood  to  me  in  the  relation, 
more  reverend  than  romantic,  of  grandfather. 

So,  with  a  wistful  look  at  the  pensive,  delicate  face  that 
never  had  grown,  never  could  grow  old,  I  glanced  a(  the 
empty  panel  that  intervened  between  this  picture  and  the 
the  next.  That  space  surely  once  had  held  a  portrait,  and 
with  a  rapid  transition  of  fancy,  I  thought  of  the  picture 
with  its  face  to  the  wall,  in  the  deserted  room  upstairs. 
That  was  it,  I  made  no  manner  of  doubt,  that  had  once 
hung  here.  Beyond  it  was  the  mother's  portrait,  fair, 
gentle,  and  sad :  beneath  this  picture,  and  depending  from 
its  frame,  hung  a  little  crayon  sketch,  that  I  examined  with 
interest,  thinking  to  find  it  identical,  possibly,  with  tbt» 


72  RUTLEDGE. 

miniature,  which  I  pulled  from  my  pocket  to  compare.  But 
a  glance  refuted  that  idea ;  not  the  faintest  likeness  between 
them,  nothing  in  common  but  human  features.  It  repre 
sented  (the  sketch  I  mean)  a  boy  of  about  my  own  age,  with 
such  a  fine,  glowing,  ardent  face  as  made  "  new  life-blood 
warm  the  bosom,"  only  to  look  into  his  truthful  eyes,  only 
to  catch  the  merry  smile  that  lingered  about  his  handsome 
mouth.  It  had,  however,  such  a  likeness  to  Mr.  Rutledge, 
that  I  should,  despite  the  difference  that  time  had  wrought^ 
have  imagined  him  to  be  the  original  of  the  picture,  had  I 
not  found,  written  hastily  and  faintly  in  one  corner,  "  Obit. 
1830,"  and  some  words  in  Latin  that  I  could  not  make 
myself  mistress  of. 

I  was  so  intent  upon  it,  that  I  did  not  notice  Mr.  Rut- 
ledge's  entrance  till  he  stood  beside  me.  I  pocketed  the 
miniature,  which  I  still  held  in  my  hand,  in  hot  haste,  and 
turned  to  meet  his  inquiring  eyes. 

"  Are  you  making  acquaintance  with  my  ancestors  ?"  he 
asked. 

I  answered  that  I  had  been  looking  at  the  pictures. 
u  But  this,"  pointing  to  the  crayon  head,  "  this  is  not  an 
ancestor,  is  it  ?" 

"  No,"  he  said,  with  a  hatf  smile,  "  not  exactly  an  ances 
tor  ;  a  relation." 

I  asked  him  if  it  was  not  considered  like  him. 

He  had  been  told,  he  said,  that  there  was  some  resem 
blance.  I  looked  at  it  with  a  critical  eye,  and  then  re 
marked  that  the  resemblance  lay,  I  thought,  in  the  contour 
of  the  face,  and  perhaps  something  about  the  eyes  ;  but  the 
expression  was  as  different  from  his  as  it  was  possible  for 
an  expression  to  be. 

"  That's  true,"  he  said  looking  at  it  sadly ;  "  that  face 
expresses  what  no  man's  face  can  express  after  thirty ;  hope 
and  courage,  and  an  unshaken  confidence  in  the  honesty  of 
bis  fellows." 

I  did  not  fancy  that  doctrine  very  much,  sc  I  began 


BUTLEDGE.  TS 

talking  of  the  other  pictures.  Of  the  older  ones,  Mr.  Rut- 
tedge  gave  me  some  slight  sketches,  passing  briefly  by  those 
that  I  knew  he  could  have  told  me  most  about.  But  I 
turned  admiringly  back  to  the  sketch  that  had  so  much 
taken  my  fancy. 

"  After  all,"  I  said,  "  this  is  the  finest  face  among  them." 

Mr.  Rutledge  shook  his  head  dissentingly,  and  looked 
sadly  up  at  Richard's  portrait. 

"  No  indeed,"  I  exclaimed,  "  that's  not  near  so  good  a 
face  as  this ;  handsomer,  perhaps,  dreamy  and  poetical,,  but 
not  so  brave  and  spirited.  Look  at  the  impatient  fire  in 
those  eyes  !  And  his  smile  is  truth  itself.  There  is  some 
thing  so  determined  in  the  attitude  too." 

"  He  was,  I  believe,  an  honest,  truthful  lad,"  said  Mr. 
Rutledge,  unenthusiastically. 

"  He  was  more  than  that  I'm  sure,"  I  exclaimed,  *'  or 
would  have  been,  if  he  had  lived.  With  that  high  spirit 
he  would  have  made  everything  bend  to  him ;  and  if  fair 
fortune  hadn't  smiled  upon  his  humble  birth  (which,  how 
ever,  I  suppose  she  did,  being  a  Rutledge),  he  would  have 
conquered  her,  you  may  be  sure.  I  am  certain  he  wouldn't 
have  known  the  meaning  of  the  words  despair  and  doubt ; 
but  come  what  might,  would  have  hoped  and  believed  to 
the  end." 

"  But  perhaps,"  said  my  companion,  "  perhaps  a  hand  of 
ice  might  have  been  laid  upon  his  youth  ;  a  cruel  blow  might 
in  one  day  have  dashed  from  him  all  that  feeds  hope  and 
faith ;  perhaps  disgrace,  grief,  illness,  coming  all  together, 
might  have  crushed  out  of  him  all  energy  and  spirit.  What 
would  have  become  of  your  hero  then  ?  Would  he  have 
hoped,  when  death  and  the  grave  had  ah1  that  he  loved  ? 
Would  he  have  believed,  when  what  from  his  cradle  he  had 
most  trusted  in  had  proved  false  and  worthless  ?" 

I  was  a  little  startled  at  the  bitterness  of  his  tone,  but 
persisted,  "  All  that  wouldn't  have  happened  to  him.  '  For- 
tune  favors  the  brave.'  " 


74  BUTLEDGE. 

"  Not  always,  petite,  not  always,"  he  said,  with  an  iron 
ical  laugh. 

"  Nevertheless,  I  wish  he  had  lived,"  I  said  ;  "  I  am  sur« 
he  would  have  been  my  hero." 

"  Why,"  said  Mr.  Rutledge,  looking  at  me,  "  why,  if,  as 
you  say,  that  boy  had  lived,  he  would  have  been — let  me 
see — nearly  forty  years  old :  and  that,  you  know,  would 
have  made  it  out  of  the  question  for  you  to  love  him." 

"  I  never  thought  of  that,"  I  said  naively.  "  Well  then, 
I  wish  I  had  lived  when  he  did,  and  been  born  thirty  years 
ago." 

"  What !  Your  youth  all  over  ?  No,  little  simpleton, 
whatever  you  wish,  don't  be  wild  enough  to  wish  that! 
Make  the  best  of  your  youth,  and  freshness,  and  spirit,  for 
they'll  take  themselves  off  some  fine  day,  and  leave  you  no 
thing  to  do  but  to  look  back." 

"  That's  according  to  the  use  I  make  of  them,  I  suppose," 
I  answered,  a  little  ungraciously.  "  I  am  not  at  all  afraid 
that  I  shall  be  bitter  and  misanthropical  when  I  am  old,  if  1 
spend  my  youth  as  I  ought." 

Mr.  Rutledge  laughed  very  much  as  if  he  thought  I  meant 
it  for  him ;  yet  the  laugh  was  not  altogether  a  happy  one, 
and  he  continued : 

"  See  to  it  then,  child,  that  you  use  them  right.  I  do 
not  mean  to  discourage  you.  I  have  no  doubt  you  will  be 
very  happy  and  contented  when  forty  comes  around  on  the 
string  of  birth-days.  Always  being  and  provided,  of  course, 
that  the  hero,  or  one  as  near  like  him  as  possible,  has  come 
in  at  the  right  time  to  realize  your  dreams." 

"  But  I  don't  believe,"  I  said,  perversely,  "  that  I  shall 
ever  have  any  lover  that  I  snail  like  as  much  as  I  should 
bnve  done  this  one." 

"  He  would  have  made  you  an  earnest  lover,  certainly,  if 
that  would  have  won  you,  with  perhaps  a  dash  of  impetu 
osity  and  tyranny  in  his  love  ;  but  that  is  what  you  womep 
like,  is  it  not  ?" 


RUT  LEDGE.  73 

"  How  can  I  tell  ?"  I  said,  very  demurely. 

"  I  forgot,"  he  answered,  laughing,  "  I  forgot  that  you 
were  just  out  of  school,  and  could  not  be  supposed  to  know 
anything  about  love  and  lovers." 

"  Of  course  not,"  I  said,  putting  my  hands  in  the  pockets 
of  my  basque,  and  looking  at  the  ground  over  my  left  shoul 
der,  after  the  manner  of  a  French  print  I  had  seen  in  Made 
moiselle  Celine's  room.  "  Of  course  not." 

Mr.  Rutledge  seemed  to  take  in  such  good  part  my  saucy 
ways,  that  I  began  to  feel  much  more  at  my  ease,  and 
laughed  quite  like  myself,  when  on  going  to  the  table  we 
found  the  soup  very  Tinattractively  cold  ;  "  glacee,"  Mr.  Rut- 
ledge  said  it  was. 

"  While  people  moralize  they  are  very  apt  to  forget  the 
realities  ;  and  so  we  have  let  the  soup  get  cold,  and  the  din 
ner,  get  burned,  very  likely,  and  shall  have  to  wait  for  it  as 
it  has  been  waiting  for  us." 

Mr.  Rutledge  rang,  and  a  servant  and  hot  soup  promptly 
appeared,  and  dinner  was  soon  in  progress,  and  a  very 
pleasant  dinner  it  proved.  For  the  time,  my  companion 
forgot  abstraction,  and  I  forgot  timidity,  and  both  forgot 
the  dismal  storm  without.  Mr.  Rutledge  condescended  to 
be  entertaining,  and  I  deigned  to  forget  all  former  slights, 
and  be  entertained.  Unluckily,  however,  at  dessert,  I  made 
some  allusion  to  the  loneliness  in  which  he  usually  took  his 
meals,  and  that  seemed  to  raise  some  disagreeable  recollec 
tion,  for  his  face  darkened,  and  he  said,  after  a  short  pause  : 

"  Yes,  young  lady,  it  is  long  since  I  have  seen  any  face, 
and  most  of  all,  a  woman's  face,  opposite  me  at  this  solitary 
table." 

Then  he  fell  into  a  fit  of  musing  that  made  me  feel  un 
comfortably  sorry  for  my  mal-a-propos  speech.  I  could  not 
help  wondering  who  had  last  sat  where  I  did,  and  the 
thought  was  anything  but  genial;  my  eyes  wandered 
involuntarily  to  the  empty  panel ;  and  it  was  with  a  feeling 
of  relief  that  I  arose  from  ;.he  table  and  followed  my  hosl 


76  KUTLEDQE. 

i 

toward  the  library.    As  we  passed  the  crayon  picture, 
ever,  I  paused  a  moment,  and  Mr.  Rutledge,  turning,  8aid  ; 

"  You're  not  tired  of  it  yet  ?" 

I  said  no,  I  liked  it  better  all  the  time,  and  to-morrow 
I  meant  to  bring  my  drawing  materials  down  and  make  a 
copy  of  it,  if  he  was  willing. 

"  You  are  welcome  to  the  picture  itself,  if  you'll  accept 
it,"  he  said,  indifferently,  proceeding  to  unhook  it  from  the 
frame  of  the  picture  above,  to  which  it  hung. 

I  was  rnute  with  amazement  for  a  moment,  and  hardly 
found  breath  to  exclaim : 

"  How  strange  that  you  do  not  value  it !" 

He  replied  that  there  were  two  or  three  sketches  of  the 
same  face  about  the  house,  and  he  did  not  care  particularly 
for  this  one.  It  gave  him  great  pleasure  to  give  it  to  me, 
if  I  fancied  it. 

I  hope  I  thanked  him,  but  I  am  not  at  all  certain  that  I 
did.  I  seized  the  picture  with  great  gotit,  and  ran  into 
the  library,  and  up  to  the  lightest  window,  to  enjoy  it  by 
myself. 

Mr.  Rutledge  threw  himself  into  a  chair,  and  his  hand 
being  before  his  eyes,  I  could  not  see  whether  he  slept  or 
not.  I  looked  long  and  earnestly  at  my  favorite  in  every 
light,  and  from  every  point ;  then  got  up  on  a  chair  and 
reached  down  a  Latin  Dictionary  to  help  translate  the  sen 
tence  written  below  the  date.  But  I  could  not  get  it  rigli^ 
and  gave  up  in  despair. 

That  amusement  exhausted,  and  no  other  presenting,  in 
the  course  of  time  the  unavoidable  weariness,  and  want  of 
elasticity  consequent  upon  rny  three  days'  confinement  to 
the  house,  began  to  make  themselves  felt,  and  at  last,  I 
thought,  to  become  utterly  unbearable.  I  conceived  the 
mad  plan  of  getting  my  shawl  and  hood,  and  escaping  to 
the  piazza  for  a  little  exercise,  though  the  rain  had  beaten 
furiously  upon  almost  every  part  of  it.  I  got  up,  and  was 
stealing  noiselessly  toward  the  door,  when  Mr.  Rutledge, 


BUTLEDGE.  77 

whom  I  had  fancied  asleep,  said  uneasily,  without  altering 
his  position : 

"  Why  do  you  go  away  ?" 

"  I  am  so  tired  of  the  house,  sir,  I  am  going  to  wrap  up 
and  walk  up  and  down  on  the  piazza  for  a  little  while.  It 
will  not  hurt  me,"  I  continued,  pleadingly ;  "  mayn't  I  ?" 

"  On  no  account,"  he  said  decidedly;  "it  would  be  absurd, 
after  the  fever  you  have  had."' 

"  I  am  positive  it  would  not  hurt  me,  sir." 

"  And  I  am  positive  it  would." 

As  Mr.  Rutledge  had  not  turned  toward  me  at  all,  I  sup 
pose  he  did  not  see  how  very  angry  I  looked,  and  how  very 
red  my  face  was.  Perhaps  his  thoughts  had  gone  off  to 
something  else,  for  he  did  not  say  anything  /nore ;  and  I 
stood  drumming  on  the  table,  waiting  for  him  to  continue ; 
determined,  determined  not  to  go  back  and  sit  down,  till, 
exasperated  beyond  patience  by  his  silence,  1  said,  moving 
toward  the  door : 

"  I  suppose  then,  sir,  you  have  no  objection  to  my  going 
to  my  own  room." 

/'Why,  yes,"  he  said,  "I  have,  decidedly.  I  think  it 
would  be  much  more  sensible  for  you  to  amuse  yourself 
down  here." 

"  I've  failed  in  doing  that,  sir,  already." 

"  Well,  then,  stay  and  amuse  me." 

"  That's  entirely  beyond  my  power,  I  am  afraid,  sir,"  1 
answered,  shrugging  my  shoulders. 

"  You  cannot  tell  till  you  have  tried,"  he  said ;  "  I  have  a 
wretched  headache.  Don't  you  feel  sorry  for  me  ?" 

"  Of  course,  sir,  exceedingly.  But  unluckily,  I  don't  see 
how  I  can  help  you." 

"  Oh,  it's  OT  no  importance.     Pray  go." 

I  stood  irresolute  and  very  uncomfortable. 

"  If  there's  anything  you'll  have  for  your  head,  sir" 

"  No,  there's  nothing,  thank  you." 

This  was  the  way  in  which  I  repaid  his  Indulgence  and 


78  KTJTLEDGB. 

attention !  This  was  a  nice  return  for  the  care  he  had  taken 
of  me  during  iny  illness.  I  would  have  given  worlds  for  a 
good  excuse  to  stay,  but  Mr.  Rutledge  seemed  determined 
not  to  give  me  any.  At  last,  after  everything  else  had 
foiled,  I  said,  hesitatingly : 

"  Would  it  annoy  you  to  have  mp  read  aloud  to  you, 
sir?" 

He  would  not  trouble  me  on  any  account,  lie  said. 

"  But,"  I  answered  eagerly,  "  it  is  not  the  slightest 
trouble.  I  should  like  to  do  it,  I  assure  you." 

He  would  not  think  of  putting  such  a  task  upon  me. 

".  But  do  say,"  I  exclaimed,  "  whether  or  not  you  like 
reading  aloud." 

He  liked  it  very  much,  but  begged  me  not  to  trouble 
myself. 

That  was  enough,  and  in  a  moment  I  was  by  the  fire. 

"  What  shall  I  read,  sir  ?" 

"  Anything  you  fancy." 

"  You  are  the  most  provoking  man,"  I  thought,  as  I 
looked  up  and  down  the  shelves  in  search  of  a  book.  I 
shrewdly  concluded  that  I  might  as  well  please  myself  in  the 
choice,  as  it  was  not  probable  that  Mr.  Rutledge  would 
attend  to  three  words  of  what  I  read,  even  if  he  did  not  go 
to  sleep.  So  recognizing  an  old  friend  in  "  Sintram,"  I  took 
it  from  the  bookcase,  and  sitting  down  in  the  window-seat, 
opened  its  familiar  pages  with  some  pleasure.  Familiar, 
that  is,  they  had  been  to  my  childhood,  but  it  was  some 
years  since  I  had  seen  the  book.  It  was  not  long,  however, 
before  I  forgot  myself  and  my  auditor  over  the  strange, 
wild,  touching  story.  The  dreary  storm  without,  the  grow 
ing  gloom  within,  all  added  to  the  charm  of  its  wild  pathos. 
I  read  on,  bending  forward  to  catch  the  last  grey  light  from 
the  window,  till,  baffled  by  the  rapidly-deepening  twilight, 
I  left  it,  and  sitting  down  on  a  low  seat  by  the  fire,  rend  on 
by  its  nickering  light.  If  I  had  not  been  sure  that  no 
one  was  atteiidJug,  I  should  have  stopped  for  sbanu-  at 


RUTLEDGE.  T9 

the  trembling  of  my  voice,  which  I  could  not  control,  as  I 
read  the  lines  that  tell  to  Sintram  his  release  from  terror 
and  temptation : 

"  Death  comes  to  set  thee  free — 
0  meet  him  cheerily 

As  thy  true  friend ; 
And  all  thy  fears  shall  cease, 
And  in  eternal  peace 

Thy  penance  end." 

A  iow,  quick-drawn  sigh  told  me  that  I  was  not  alone  in 
my  interest  in  the  tale.  I  finished  it,  and  dropping  the 
book  in  my  lap,  sat  resting  my  head  on  my  hand,  and 
gazing  dreamily  into  the  fire.  Presently  steps  in  the  hall 
interrupted  my  revery,  and  I  rose  to  put  the  book  away. 
As  I  passed  Mr.  Rutledge,  he  held  out  his  hand,  and,  as  I 
laid  my  own  in  it,  he  said,  "  thank  you,"  and  looked  at  me 
with  the  most  mournful  expression  in  his  eyes.  The  teara 
rushed  involuntarily  into  mine  as  I  met  his  glance ;  I  did 
not  know  which  to  pity  most,  Sintram  or  my  companion. 
He  saw  the  pity  in  my  look,  and  remembered  it,  long  after 
the  emotion  had  passed. 

A  servant  entered  at  that  moment,  with  the  brightest  of 
cheerful  lamps ;  Mr.  Rutledge  ordered  more  wood  on  the 
fire,  which  presently  blazed  and  crackled  genially ;  the  cur 
tains  were  drawn,  and  the  conquered  twilight  and  moaning 
wind  were  banished  the  room. 

Mr.  Rutledge  roused  himself  from  his  abstracted  mood, 
and  I  said  to  myself,  "  What  can  I  do  to  keep  him  from 
thinking  of  the  things  that  trouble  him  ?"  And,  woman 
enough  to  like  the  task,  I  set  myself  to  make  the  evening  a 
pleasant  one,  and  { o  keep  all  dullness  and  ennui  away. 
And  it  was  a  very  bappy  evening  to  me,  and  not  a  dull  one, 
I  am  certain,  to  my  host.  I  made  tea  with  much  less  trepi 
dation  than  on  the  evening  before,  and  it  proved  almost 
•magical  in  curing  Mr.  Rutledge's  headache.  I  could  hardly 


80  KUTLEDGE. 

believe  the  clock  was  right  when  it  struck  ten,  the  evening 
had  seemed  so  short.  I  took  my  picture  from  the  mantel 
piece,  and  bidding  my  companion  good  night,  ran  upstairs 
two  steps  at  a  time,  not  remembering  till  I  reached  the  top, 
that  Miss  Crowen  had  condemned  the  practice  as  unlady 
like.  "  I  hope  Mr.  Rutledge  wasn't  listening,"  I  thought 
with  mortification.  If  Mr.  Rutledge  wasn't,  Mrs.  Roberts 
was,  though,  for  I  heard  her  door  shut  softly  soon  after  I 
had  reached  my  room,  and  presently  she  found  an  excuse 
for  coming  in  upon  me,  which  she  did  rather  suddenly,  as  ] 
was  standing  before  the  new  picture,  looking  at  it  very 
earnestly,  as  I  leisurely  unbraided  my  hair.  I  went  over  to 
the  glass,  however,  very  quickly  upon  her  entrance;  and 
after  her  errand  was  over,  she  quite  inadvertently,  it  would 
seem,  glanced  up  at  the  picture,  but  I  knew  she  had  seen  it 
the  first  thing  when  she  came  inj 

"  Why,"  she  exclaimed,  looking  surprised,  "  how  came 
Mr.  Rutledge's  picture  up  here?  It  has  always  hung 
under  his  mother's  in  the  dining-room.  There  must  be 
some  mistake,"  she  continued,  looking  inquiringly  at  me. 

An  alarming  truth  began  to  dawn  on  my  mind,  a  vivid 
blush  spread  over  my  face,  and  Mrs.  Roberts  never  once 
took  her  eyes  off  me. 

"  I  fancied  it,  and  Mr.  Rutledge  said  I  might  have  it,"  I 
stammered.  Mrs.  Robert's  blue  lips  parted  for  an  instant 
in  a  contemptuous  curl ;  then,  looking  stonier  than  ever, 
she  said : 

"  Yes,  it  is  a  good  likeness ;  or  was,  at  least,  when  h« 
was  a  young  man  ;  he's  sadly  changed  since  then  ;  he's  an 
old  and  an  altered  man  now,  is  Mr.  Arthur  Rutledge." 

The  housekeeper,  saying  this  with  emphasis,  and  having 
no  excuse  for  staying  longer,  was  obliged  to  withdraw 

"  Yes,  ma'am,"  I  muttered,  as  I  locked  the  door  after 
her,  "  I  know  he's  an  old  man,  I  know  heV  nearly  forty 
years  old :  who  better  ?  for  he  told  me  so  himself."  And 
my  cheeks  scorched  with  blushes,  as  one  by  one,  I  recalled 


BUTLEDGE.  81 

my  foolish  speeches.  How  stupid,  how  blind  I  had  been. 
Why,  as  I  looked  at  the  picture  now,  there  wasn't  a  featura 
in  the  face  that  could  possibly  have  been  mistaken  for  any 
one  else,  not  a  shade  nor  outline  that  was  not  characteristic. 
I  could  have  cried  with  vexation.  How  should  I  ever  dare 
to  look  him  in  the  face  again  ?  "  My  hero !"  And  I  cov 
ered  my  face  'with  my  hands,  and  started  up  guiltily,  and 
pal  it  out  of  the  way  before  I  unlocked  the  door  for  Kitty. 


CHAPTER  VL 

"  The  Sundays  of  man's  life 
Threaded  together  on  time's  string, 
Mstke  bracelets  to  adorn  the  wifa 
Of  the  eternal  glorious  King. 
On  Sunday,  heaven's  gate  stands  ope; 
Blessings  are  plentiful  and  rife  ; 
More  plentiful  than  hope." 

HERBERT. 

';<Mu  RUTLEDGE'S  compliments,  Miss,  and  lie  begs  you 
will  breakfast  without  him  this  morning  ;  he  isn't  weh1 
enough  to  come  down,"  said  the  servant,  as  I  entered  the 
dining-room  next  morning. 

"  Is  his  arm  worse  ?"  I  asked. 

"  It  pains  him  a  good  deal,  Miss ;  and  he's  had  a  very 
bad  night.  Michael  has  ridden  over  to  get  the  doctor." 
That  was  bad  news,  certainly ;  I  wished  very  much  I  could 
do  something  for  him;  but  as  I  couldn't,  the  next  best 
thing  was  to  eat  my  breakfast ;  which,  however,  was  rather 
choky  and  unpalatable  in  all  that  grand  solemnity,  with  the 
tall  Thomas  (Mr.  Rutledge's  own  man,  temporarily  supply 
ing  the  post  of  waiter)  looking  down  at  me.  I  broke  down 
on  the  second  slice  of  toast,  and  concluded  to  give  it  up  and 
go  into  the  library. 

It  seemed -incredible  that  it  had  stormed  yesterday;  such 
splendid  sunshine,  such  a  clear  sky,  I  thought,  I  had  never 
seen  before.  I  would  have  given  anything  for  a  race  down 
the  avenue  in  that  keen,  bracing  wind,  but  I  determined 
heroically  that  I  would  not  stir  out  of  the  house  till  Mr. 
Rutledge  gave  me  permission.  But  about  eleven  o'clock 
my  reading  was  interrupted  by  the  abrupt  entrance  of 
who,  with  her  face  all  aglow  with  pleasure,  an 

82 


KUT  LEDGE.  83 

nounced  to  me  that  Mr.  Rutledge  had  ordered  the  carriage 
for  me  to  take  a  drive,  if  I  felt  like  it ;  and  sent  word,  that 
if  I  was  willing,  he  thought  Kitty  had  better  accompany 
me.  I  tossed  away  my  book,  exclaiming,  "  it  was  grand," 
and,  followed  by  Kitty,  ran  upstairs. 

"  How  odd,"  she  said,  as  in  breathless  haste  she  prepared 
me  for  the  drive,  "how  odd  that  Mr.  Rutledge  shouldn't 
have  sent  word  for  Mrs.  Roberts  to  go  with  you,  miss,  isn't 
it?" 

"  Odd,  but  very  nice,  Kitty,"  I  answered,  with  a  grimace 
that  made  her  laugh  ;  and  as  the  carriage  drove  to  the  door, 
we  ran  down  the  stairs,  Kitty  putting  on  her  bonnet  and  shawl 
as  we  went.  I  am  sure  it  would  have  eased  for  a  moment 
Mr.  Rutledge's  pain,  if  he  could  have  known  the  extent  of 
the  pleasure  he  had  conferred  on  the  two  children  who  so 
delightedly  occupied  his  carriage  that  morning.  All  Kitty's 
knowledge  of  it,  I  suspect,  had  hitherto  been  speculative, 
and  I  think  one  of  the  dearest  wishes  of  her  heart  was  grati 
fied  when  she  tried  experimentally  the  softness  of  its  new 
dark  green  cushions,  and  in  her  own  proper  person  occu 
pied  the  front  seat,  an  honor  whereof  she  had  only  dreamed 
before. 

It  was  a  perfect  autumn  day ;  the  air  was  exhilarating,  the 
sunshine  brilliant,  the  scenery  picturesque,  and  a  great  deal 
less  than  that  would  have  sufficed  to  make  mo  happy  in 
those  days  ;  and  before  we  reentered  the  park  gate,  three 
hours  had  slipped  away  in  the  most  unsuspected  manner. 
Kitty  having  gathered,  at  my  request,  an  armful  of  the  few 
gay  autumn  leaves  remaining  after  yesterday's  storm,  I  en 
tertained  myself,  during  the  drive  home,  with  arranging 
them  in  a  bouquet.  The  glossy  dark  laurel  leaves,  and  the 
varied  and  bright  hues  of  the  maple  and  sumac,  with  some 
vivid  red  berries,  name  unknown,  made  quite  a  pretty  and 
attractive  combination.  As  we  reached  home,  I  was  seized 
with  an  audacious  intention,  which  I  put  into  execution  be 
fore  allowing  myself  time  to  "  think  better  of  it  " 


84  RUT  LEDGE. 

"  Kitty,"  I  said,  "  take  this  to  Mr.  Rutledge's  door,  and 
give  it  to  Thomas  for  him,  and  say  I  hope  he  is  better,  arid 
T  am  very  much  obliged  to  him  for  sending  me  to  drive,  and 
that  I  enjoyed  it  very  much." 

I  was  rather  alarmed  when  Kitty  had  accomplished  her 
errand,  but  it  was  too  late  to  retract.  That  evening  was  a 
very  long  one ;  I  went  upstairs  at  nine  o'clock,  wondering 
at  its  interminable  length. 

o 

The  next  day  was  Sunday.  Mr.  Rutledge  was  no  better^ 
and  I  went  to  church  alone  in  the  carriage,  with  only  Kitty 
to  attend  me,  Mrs.  Roberts,  she  said,  not  being  able  to  leave 
"  the  master."  It  was  a  beautiful  little  church,  Gothic,  and 
built  of  stone,  with  nothing  wanting  to  render  it  church-like 
and  solemn.  When  I  looked  at  the  tablets  on  the  wall,  that 
recorded,  one  after  another,  the  deaths  of  Warren  Rut- 
ledge,  and  Maria,  his  wife,  and  Richard,  their  son,  I  could 
not  help  thinking  it  must  be  sad  for  him  to  come  here,  Sun 
day  after  Sunday,  and  see  that ;  but  then  it's  easier  to  think 
of  such  things  in  church  than  anywhere  else ;  somehow, 
quick  and  dead  do  not  seem  so  far  separated  there. 

Why,  I  could  not  tell,  but  there  I  remembered  a  great 
deal  more  thoughtfully  and  thankfully  than  I  had  done  be 
fore,  the  evening,  not  a  week  ago,  when  I  had  lain,  living 
and  unhurt,  among  the  dead  and  dying.  It  Avas  strange,  in 
the  humored  nervousness  of  the  first  day  or  two,  and  the 
returning  health  and  spirits  of  the  following,  how  little  I 
had  thought  of  it.  And  when  Mr.  Shenstone  read  his 
text :  "  Were  there  not  ten  cleansed  ?  But  where  are  the 
nine  ?  There  are  not  found  that  returned  to  give  glory  to 
God,  save  this  stranger,"  my  heart  smote  me.  I  indeed 
had  forgotten,  and  had  taken  carelessly,  and  without  much 
thought,  my  preservation  from  a  terrible  death.  I  indeed 
had  gone  on  without  giving  glory  to  God,  without  ac 
knowledging  the  mercy  by  which  I  yet  lived. 

Mr.  Shenstone's  sermon  was  one  that  those  who  recog 
nize  only  as  eloquence,  pathos  and  fire  and  passion,  would 


KUTLEDGE.  85 

have  pronounced  very  far  from  eloquent.  ELs  manner  was 
quiet,  and  not  particularly  impressive,  his  language  simple 
and  unostentatious.  But  he  possessed  the  true  kind  of 
sermon  eloquence — keen  perception  of  spiritual  things,  and 
the  clearest  knowledge  of  the  Christian  life.  He  had  learn 
ing  and  talents ;  but  it  was  not  by  them  alone  that  he 
gained  so  deep  a  reverence  from  his  humble  parishioners, 
so  strong  an  influence  over  them.  It  was  because  his  own 
hope  was  high,  that  he  could  elevate  theirs.  It  was  because 
learning  and  talents  and  fame  were  things  indifferent  to 
him,  save  as  aids  in  the  service  he  had  entered,  that  he 
could  descend  to  their  level,  to  raise  them  more  nearly  to 
his  own.  They  could  grasp  what  he  taught  them,  for  it 
was  "  a  reasonable  religious  and  holy  hope,"  a  rule  of  life, 
sober,  practical,  and  simple,  that  led  to  high  things,  but  be 
gan  with  low.  It  was  because  his  heart  was  in  his  work, 
that  his  work  prospered ;  because  the  World,  the  Flesh, 
and  the  Devil,  were  his  sworn  and  baffled  enemies,  and  not 
his  half  encouraged  and  secret  allies,  that  in  his  little  flock 
he  made  such  headway  against  them ;  because  "  through 
faith  and  prayer  "  he  kept  his  own  heart  and  life  pure,  he 
could  see  more  clearly  to  guide  them. 

Thus  it  wras,  that  though  Mr.  Shenstone  hardly  took  his 
eyes  from  his  notes,  and  used  very  few  gestures,  and  those 
few  awkward  ones — though  he  preached  quietly  and  unen 
thusiastically — though  there  were  no  ornaments  of  rhetoric, 
no  efforts  at  oratory,  it  was  a  sermon  that,  to  this  day,  I 
distinctly  remember,  and  never,  I  fancy,  shall  forget. 
Keen,  pithy,  conclusive,  no  one  could  help  acknowledging 
its  power ;  kind,  earnest,  sincere,  no  one  could  doubt  its 
spirit ;  full  of  a  devotion  the  purest,  a  faith  that  pierced  to 
heaven  itself,  a  love  that  cast  out  all  fear  and  slothfulness, 
no  one  eould  listen  and  not  be  better  for  the  listening.  He 
put  old  truths  in  new  lights,  and  gave  to  the  familiar  Gospel 
Htory  a  vivid  interest,  that  often  reading  had  made  tame 
ar.d  unimpressive.  He  brought  distinctly  before  the  imagi- 


86  R  U  T  L  E  D  G  E  . 

nation  the  Samaritan  village,  through  which  the  Saviouf 
was  passing  on  his  way  to  Jerusalem  ;  the  sad  company  of 
leprous  men,  cut  off  from  the  sympathy  and  society  of  their 
fellows,  who  attracted  his  notice.  That  they  "  stood  afar 
off,"  not  daring  to  approach  him,  was  no  obstacle  to  him ; 
no  distance  could  put  them  beyond  the  pity  of  that  watch 
ful  eye,  beyond  the  attention  of  that  ear,  ever  open  to  the 
prayers  of  his  people.  They  were  marked,  miserable,  suf 
fering  men,  and  as  such  they  cried  with  all  their  hearts 
and  humbly,  "  Jesus,  Master,  have  mercy  on  us  !" 

It  was  their  one  chance  for  restoration  to  home  and  kin 
dred,  no  doubt  they  cried  with  all  their  hearts.  They  were 
considered  beyond  the  reach  of  human  aid  ;  no  doubt  they 
cried  humbly.  And  He  "  who  hath  never  failed  them  that 
seek  Him,"  had  mercy  on  them  and  heard  their  cry  and 
helped  them.  Sending  them  simply  and  unostentatiously 
to  the  ordained  means  of  cure  and  cleansing,  they,  obeying 
eagerly  and  unquestioningly,  were  cured  and  cleansed.  On 
their  way  to  the  priests,  the  hated  disease  left  the  bodies  i, 
had  so  long  degraded  and  afflicted,  and  with  the  glow  of 
returning  health,  they  felt  they  were  men  once  more,  men 
without  a  curse  and  a  reproach  upon  them.  And  with  re 
turning  health  came  the  pride,  the  self  reliance  that  had 
been  only  slumbering,  not  dead,  under  the  weight  of  the 
punishment  laid  on  them.  Without  a  thought  of  Him  to 
whom  they  owed  the  power  to  do  it,  they  hurried  forward, 
one  perhaps  to  his  farm,  another  to  his  merchandise,  long 
denied,  absent,  but  unforgotten  idols.  Among  the  crowd, 
but  one  remembered  to  be  thankful,  but  one  returned  to 
give  glory  to  God.  And  he  was  a  Samaritan,  but  another 
name  to  Jewish  ears,  for  infamy  and  contempt.  No  doubt 
he  had  been  in  a  good  school  to  learn  humility  among 
these  proud  Jews,  who,  even  in  their  degradation,  had 
probably  never  forgotten  to  revile  and  to  persecute.  And 
on  him  alone,  of  all  the  ten,  rested  the  blessing  and  com- 
mendation,  beside  which  the  bodily  cure  was  but  a  paltry 


EUTLEDGH.  87 

gift.  These  things  were  written  for  our  admonition ;  they 
hud  called  for  mercy  in  their  extremity,  they  had  been 
heard  and  their  prayer  granted,  and  they  had  forgotten 
whence  came  the  mercy,  and  had  used  it  only  to  harden 
themselves  in  worldliness  and  sin.  Had  this  case  no  paral 
lel  in  Christian  times  ?  Was  Jewish  ingratitude  the  last 
that  had  been  oifered  to  Divine  love  ?  Were  there  none, 
among  the  Co'ngregation  of  Christ's  flock,  who  in  time  of 
peril  and  temptation,  had  with  ah1  their  hearts  and  humbly 
cried  for  mercy,  which  when  sent  they  had  forgotten  to  be 
thankful  for  ?  The  vows  made  in  a  time  of  terror  and 
despair,  fade  in  the  sunshine  of  returning  prosperity,  the 
blessing  is  used,  the  Giver  is  forgotten.  Must  not  such  a 
sin  look  black  to  Him  who  is  of  purer  eyes  than  to  behold 
iniquity?  Will  it  not  provoke  Him  more  surely  than 
any  other,  to  leave  the  ingrate  forever  to  the  idols  of  his 
choice,  to  let  him  see,  when  next  comes  peril  and  perplexity, 
how  worthless  and  how  frail  they  are,  and  how  fearful  a 
thing  it  is,  to  forfeit  forever  the  protection  of  a  God  that 
can  save. 

If  any  such  there  were,  let  them  repent  while  there  was 
yet  time,  let  them  wash  out  the  ingratitude  that  stained 
their  souls,  with  penitential  tears,  and  purify  themselves 
with  prayer  and  fast,  and  daily  self-denial.  Let  them  re 
member  that  mercy  was  not  yet  withdrawn,  that  a  period 
was  not  yet  put  to  His  forgiveness  ;  but  how  near  the  time 
might  be,  how  short  the  term  of  their  probation,  none 
oould  tell,  not  even  the  angels  in  heaven. 

Ah !  I  thought,  as  we  passed  out  of  church,  If  I  could 
always  come  to  this  little  church,  and  hear  Mr.  Shenstone 
preach,  there  would  not  be  much  danger  of  my  caring  more 
than  I  ought  for  that  wicked  world  Mr.  Rutledge  talka 
about. 

I  had  not  yet  learned  that  there  is  not  much  merit  in 
doing  well  when  there  is  no  temptation  to  do  evil,  and  that, 
though  there  was  no  harm,  but  great  propriety,  in  wishing 


88  RUTLEDGE. 

to  be  kept  away  from  all  chance  of  temptation,  still,  if  my 
station  in  life  lay  in  the  world,  the  safest  prayer  would  be, 
not  to  be  taken  out  of  the  world,  but  to  be  kept  from  the 
evil. 

In  the  afternoon,  I  went  to  church  alone,  and  this  time 
on  foot,  Kitty  pointing  me  out  a  path  across  the  fields  that 
shortened  the  distance  very  considerably.  I  recognned 
Mrs.  Roberts  in  the  pew  in  front  of  me  ;  and  began  to  feel 
somewhat  ashamed  of  my  unreasonable  aversion,  as  J 
caught  sight  of  tears  on  her  wrinkled  cheeks,  and  heard  a 
slight  trembling  in  her  usually  harsh  voice.  Who  knows, 
I  thought,  how  much  she  may  have  suffered,  and  what 
heavy  cares  may  have  worn  those  wrinkles  so  deep,  and 
made  her  so  harsh  and  exacting  ?  I  really  determined  to 
be  more  charitable  and  patient,  and  that  very  evening,  by 
way  of  bringing  good  desires  to  good  effects,  I  went  softly 
to  Mrs.  Roberts'  door  and  knocked.  Now  it  was  one  thing 
to  feel  the  beauty  and  power  of  Christian  charity  and  for 
bearance,  under  the  influence  of  Mr.  Shenstone's  earnest 
voice,  and  in  the  solemn  stillness  of  the  dusky  church,  and 
another  to  realize  it  brought  down  to  fact,  before  the  door 
of  Mrs.  Roberts'  sitting-room,  and  under  the  influence  of 
her  grim  "  come  in." 

My  courage  was  beginning  to  fail,  and  I  felt  tempted  to 
make  a  precipitate  retreat,  letting  the  good  resolutions 
evaporate  as  good  resolutions  too  often  do,  in  pretty  senti 
ment.  But  remembering  how  very  contrary  this  was  to 
Mr.  Shenstone's  practical  directions,  after  a  moment's  hesi 
tation,  I  opened  the  door  and  entered.  Mrs.  Roberts  was 
sitting  by  a  small  table  with  a  small  lamp  upon  it,  reading 
a  Bible,  which,  upon  my  entrance,  she  shuffled  away,  very 
much  as  if  she  were  ashamed  to  be  caught  at  it ;  then  turned 
toward  me  with  a  look  of  surprise  that  was  anything  but 
agreeable.  She  could  not  avoid  asking  me  to  sit  down? 
which  I  did,  slipping  into  the  first  chair  I  reached,  and 
stammering  out  something  about  thinking  sbe  was  lonely, 


RUTLEDGE.  99 

and  thai  she  might  be  glad  of  company  for  a  little  while. 
She  stiffly  replied  she  was  too  much  used  to  being  alone,  to 
mind  it  at  all,  and  thereupon  ensued  an  awkward  silence. 
The  mahogany  and  haircloth  looked  dismaller  than  ever  by 
the  feeble  light  of  the  little  lamp,  and  Mrs.  Roberts'  faco 
looked  colder  and  harder.  How  I  wished  myself  out 
again  !  What  possible  good  could  my  coming  do  ?  What 
could  I  talk  about  ?  Mrs.  Roberts  did  not  make  any  at 
tempt  to  relieve  my  embarrassment,  but  sat  rigidly  silent, 
wondering,  in  her  heart,  I  knew,  what  brought  me.  I  at 
last  hit  upon  what  seemed  an  unexceptionable  topic,  and 
said,  what  a  nice  day  it  had  been. 

Rather  warm  for  the  season,  it  had  appeared  to  Mrs* 
Roberts.  Then  I  rung  the  changes  upon  the  lateness  of  the 
fall,  the  beauty  of  the  woods,  my  admiration  for  the  little 
church,  the  goodness  of  Mr.  Shenstone,  but  all  without 
producing  the  slightest  unbending  in  my  auditor.  She 
simply  assented  or  dissented  (always  the  latter,  I  thought, 
when  she  conscientiously  could),  and  beyond  it  I  could  not 
get.  By  and  by,  I  said  quite  warmly,  feeling  sure  that  I 
should  strike  the  right  chord  this  time : 

*'  What  a  fine  old  place  this  is !     I  like  it  better  every  day." 

She  gave  me  a  quick,  suspicious  look,  and  replied  quite 
snappishly : 

"  I  shouldn't  think  it  would  be  very  pleasant  to  a  young 
lady  of  your  age." 

"  What  does  she  mean  by  being  so  cross  about  it  ?"  I 
pondered.  "Is  she  afraid  I  am  going  to  put  it  in  my 
pocket  and  carry  it  away  with  me  when  I  go.  Really  I 
think  I've  done  my  duty ;  she  won't  let  me  be  kind,  and 
now  I  can,  without  any  scruple,  say  good  night." 

As  I  rose  to  go,  my  eye  fell  on  a  book  on  the  table,  the 
title  of  which  I  stooped  to  read. 

"Ah  !"  I  cried,  "  'Holy  Living  and  Dying ;'  how  familiar 
it  looks !" 

And  with  a  mist  of  tears  before  my  eyes,  I  turned  over 


90  BTJTLEDGE. 

its  well-remembered  pages.  Rutledge,  Mrs.  Roberts,  were 
all  faded  away,  and  I  was  in  a  dim  sick-room,  where,  on  a 
little  table  by  the  bed  a  Bible  and  Prayer-book  and  Taylor's 
"  Holy  Living  and  Dying,"  had  lain  day  after  day,  and 
week  after  week,  the  guides  and  comforters  of  a  dying 
saint.  Again  I  was  a  child,  half  frightened  at  I  knew  not 
what,  in  that  tranquil  ^oom,  half  soothed  by  the  placid 
smile  that  always  met  me  there.  Again  the  choking  sensa 
tion  rose  in  my  throat,  the  nameless  terror  subdued  me,  as 
when  longing  to  do  something  loving,  I  had  read  aloud,  till 
my  tears  blinded  me,  in  this  same  book.  I  had  never  seen 
it  since  then ;  since  I  had  been  away  at  school ;  but  those 
five  years  of  exile  were  swept  away  at  a  breath  as  I 
opened  it.  I  sat  down,  and,  shading  my  eyes  with  my 
hand,  glanced  over  paragraphs  that  I  knew  word  for  word, 
and  that  made  my  heart  ache  to  recall.  After  a  while, 
however,  the  bittemess  of  the  first  recognition  passed  away, 
and  it  became  a  sort  of  sad  pleasure  to  read  what  brought 
back'  so  vividly  the  love  and  grief  of  my  childhood. 

"  Shall  I  read  aloud  to  you  ?"  I  said,  looking  up.  . 

"  I  shall  be  very  glad  to  hear  you,"  she  answered,  in  a 
softened  tone. 

I  do  not  know  whether  she  divined  the  cause  of  my 
unsteady  voice,  but  it  is  not  unlikely  that  she  did,  or  the 
book  may  have  had  some  similar  association  for  herself, 
for  after  I  had  read  nearly  an  hour,  and  closed  it,  she  said, 
with  a  voice  not  over  firm : 

"  I  am  very  much  obliged  to  you,  young  lady ;  that  is  a 
book  that,  for  whatever  cause  we  read  it,  is  good  for  young 
and  old." 

"  I  shall  be  very  glad  to  read  in  it  again  to  you  whenever 
you  would  like  to  hear  me,  Mrs.  Roberts,"  I  said,  as  I  rose 
to  go.  She  accompanied  me  to  the  door,  and  held  the  light 
till  I  had  crossed  the  hall  to  my  own  room. 

If  I  had  not  done  her  any  good  by  the  effort  I  had  made, 
at  least  I  had  done  some  to  myself. 


CHAPTER  VH. 

"  He  that  knows  better  how  to  tame  a  shrew, 
Now  let  him  speak ;  'tis  charity  to  shew." 

IT  was  a  lovely  afternoon,  milder  than  November  often 
vouchsafes,  and  perfectly  clear.  The  sun  was  pretty  low, 
and  its  slanting  beams  lighted  the  smooth  lake  and  threw 
long  shadows  across  the  lawn  and  over  the  garden,  through 
the  winding  paths  of  which  I  was  now  sauntering.  The  last 
two  days  having  been  marked  by  no  improvement  in  Mr. 
Rutledge,  he  had,  of  course,  not  been  out  of  his  room,  and 
1  had  been  left  pretty  much  to  myself,  and  had  improved 
the  time  in  perfecting  my  knowledge  of  the  out-door  attrac 
tions  of  the  place,  and  from  stable  to  garden,  I  now  knew 
it  thoroughly.  Delightful  days  those  were,  saving  the 
occurrence  of  a  little  loneliness  and  ennui  that  would  creep 
over  me  as  evening  approached ;  delightful  days,  when, 
without  a  thought  of  care  for  present  or  future,  I  wandered 
unchecked  over  the  loveliest  spot  I  had  as  yet  seen.  A 
long  avenue  led  from  the  house  to  the  gate ;  the  lawn  on 
the  right  sloped  down  to  the  lake,  a  lovely  sheet  of  water 
surrounded  on  three  sides  by  woods  ;  and  around  as  far  as 
the  eye  could  reach,  stretched  wide  fields,  rich  with  cultiva 
tion,  and  woodlands  where  one  could  almost  fancy  the  axe 
had  never  resounded.  Further,  however,  than  the  gate, 
and  the  lake,  and  the  boundaries  of  the  lawn,  I  had  never 
dared  to  venture.  Dared,  though,  is  not  exactly  the  term ; 
for  if  I  had  even  thought  of  the  word  in  that  connection, 
I  should  probably  have  gone  miles  in  an  opposite  direction, 
to  prove  that,  as  to  that,  I  dared  go  anywhere.  But  I 
Lad  a  sort  of  chivalrous  respect  for  what  I  was  certain 

01 


92  RTJTLEDGE. 

would  be  the  wishes  of  my  protector,  now  hors  d« 
combat,  and  determined,  therefore,  to  stay  within  the 
grounds. 

Which  were  ample  enough  to  satisfy  any  reasonable 
young  person,  certainly,  and  picturesque  enough,  and  well 
kept  enough  for  the  most  fastidious.  That  particular  after 
noon,  as  the  declining  sun  lighted  up  the  dark  massive 
hoxise,  and  the  fine  old  trees,  nearly  bare  though  they  were, 
and  the  winding  paths  of  the  garden  and  broad  fields 
beyond,  Rutledge  seemed  to  me  the  realization  of  all  I  had 
ever  dreamed  or  read,  of  beauty  and  of  stateliness.  I 
walked  slowly  down  the  garden ;  the  faint  smell  of  some 
lingering  grapes  on  the  arbor  overhead  perfumed  the  air ; 
the  dead  leaves  rustled  under  my  feet,  alone  breaking  the 
stillness  peculiar  to  an  autumn  afternoon,  unprofaned  by  the 
many  murmurs  of  insect-life,  or  the  animating  song  of  sum 
mer  bird.  You  might  listen  for  hours,  and  a  nut  dropping 
off  the  tree  among  the  dry  leaves,  or  the  tinkling  of  a  cow 
bell,  acres  off  across  the  fields,  or  the  letting  down  a  pair  of 
bars  somewhere  about  the  farm,  would  be  all  the  sounds 
that  would  break  the  serene  silence. 

But  just  when  I  was  speculating  on  this,  I  heard  another 
and  a  very  distinct  sound,  and  looking  whence  it  proceeded, 
discovered  it  to  be  the  shutting  of  the  hall  door,  and  pre 
sently  some  one  descended  the  steps  and  walked  leisurely 
toward  the  garden.  "  Hurrali !"  I  exclaimed  aloud,  "  it's 
Mr.  Rutledge  !"  And  I  ran  down  the  path,  followed  closely 
by  a  little  terrier,  who  had  introduced  himself  to  my  notice 
at  the  barn,  and  not  being  unfavorably  received,  had 
attended  my  movements  ever  since.  It  was  not  till  I  was 
within  a  few  yards  of  Mr.  Rutledge,  that  the  recollection  of 
that  unlucky  "hero"  business  brought  me  to  a  sudden 
stand-still,  and  took  all  the  cordiality  out  of  my  greeting 
He  had  seen  me  coming,  and  was  waiting  for  me,  evidently, 
however,  somewhat  at  a  loss  to  account  for  my  sudden  shy. 
ness,  putting  it  down,  it  is  probable,  though,  to  the  score  of 


BUTLEDftE.  98 

ihildishness  and  folly  along  with  the  rest  of  my  short- 
coinings  and  absurdities. 

"  I  see,"  he  said,  extending  his  hand,  "  that  you've  been 
getting  better  as  industriously  as  I  have  been  getting  worse. 
You  begin  to  look  quite  tike  the  little  girl  I  brought  away 
from  St.  Catharine's." 

"  I  am  as  well  as  'possible,  sir.    How  is  your  arm  ?" 

**  It  isn't  my  arm  !  it  is  Doctor  Sartain's.  I  don't  take 
any  of  the  responsibility  of  it.  I  do  not  think,  however,  it 
could  possibly  be  much  worse,  as  far  as  I  can  be  supposed 
to  judge." 

He  spoke  lightly,  but  I  perceived  in  a  moment  that  he 
was  looking  very  much  paler  than  when  I  had  last  seen  him. 

"  Ought  you  to  be  out,  sir,  if  you  still  suffer  from  it  ?" 

"  I  suppose  not,"  he  answered,  as  we  walked  slowly 
down  the  path ;  "  but  to  tell  you  the  truth,  I  was  tired  of 
the  house,  and  cotite  qui  co&te,  determined  to  get  a  breath 
of  fresh  air." 

I  couldn't  help  remembering  a  certain  scene  in  the  library 
not  many  days  ago,  and  giving  him  rather  a  wicked  look, 
made  him  remember  it  too. 

"  I  had  nobody,  however,  you  see,  to  make  me  stay  in 
and  by  showing  a  little  firmness  at  the  risk  of  putting 
me  in  a  bad  temper,  keep  me  from  doing  an  imprudent 
thing." 

"  I  should  have  supposed,  sir,  that  Mrs.  Roberts  would 
have  been  in  her  element  on  such  an  occasion.  I  thought 
she  always  adopted  the  opposition  ticket." 

"By  the  way,"  he  said,  laughing,  "how  do  you  and  Mrs. 
Roberts  get  on  ?  You  weren't  very  much  charmed  with 
her  at  first  sight,  were  you  ?" 

"  I  do  not  adore  her  yet,  sir,  but  I  don't  think  she's  quite 
as  dreadful  as  I  did." 

"You  thought,  poor  child,"  he  continued  in  the  same 
tone,  "  that  you  were  in  a  dreary  prison.  Absurd  as  it  waSj 
I  oould  not  help  feeling  dreadfully  sorry  for  you  ;  and  oughl 


94  BUTLEDGE. 

to  feel  so  yet,  I  suppose,  only  I've  had  no  time  lately  u>  feel 
sorry  for  anybody  but  myself." 

"  Indeed,  sir,  I  think  you  are  the  fittest  sulject,"  I  said  a 
little  nettled.  "I  am  as  contented  as  possible,  and  shouldn't 
mind  staying  here  a  year." 

"  You  like  Rutledge,  then  ?» 

"  Yes,"  I  returned,  "  but  I  hardly  dare  say  so,  after  the 
way  in  which  Mrs.  Roberts  snapped  me  up  about  it  the 
other  night." 

"  How  was  that,"  he  asked,  with  some  curiosity. 

I  related  the  peculiar  manner  in  which  she  had  received 
my  admiration  of  it,  and  ended  by  asking  him  if  he  could 
imagine  what  was  the  cause  of  it. 

"  Oh,"  he  said,  carelessly,  "  you  must  not  mind  what  she 
says,  and  make  all  excuses  for  her.  She  has  had  a  great 
deal  of  trouble,  and  is  naturally  of  a  nervous  and  irritablo 
disposition,  and  living  here  alone  has  increased  all  her  pecu 
liarities  in  a  very  great  degree." 

"  In  a  very  uncomfortable  degree,"  I  said ;  and  Mr.  Rut 
ledge  was  continuing,  when  his  further  remarks  were  cut 
short  by  the  desertion  of  two  of  the  party,  to  wit,  the  terrier 
and  myself.  Now  I  had  no  intention  of  being  rude,  but 
looking  down  at  that  moment,  I  discovered  that  Tigre  had 
possessed  himself  of  one  of  my  gloves,  and  was  gnawing  and 
shaking  it  with  unspeakable  ffo'dt.  I  made  a  motion  to  take 
it  from  him,  whereon  the  rascal  darted  away  down  the  path, 
then  paused  an  instant,  and  before  I  could  reach  him,  was 
away  again  toward  the  barn.  I  could  not  surrender  so,  and 
forgetting  everything  but  the  chase,  tore  after  him  at  the  top 
of  my  speed.  To  see  the  way  in  which  that  little  object 
"  streaked "  along,  looking  back  at  me  out  of  the  corners 
of  his  eyes  !  Four  legs  naturally  get  over  the  ground  faster 
than  two,  and  Tigre  had  the  start  of  me  besides,  but  I  had 
graduated  in  running  at  St.  Catharine's,  and  was  not  to  bo 
beaten  by  such  an  antagonist  as  this.  It  was  a  steeple  chaso 
of  no  unexciting  character. 


RUTLEDGE.  95 

"We  staid  not  for  brake,  and  we  stopped  not  for  stone." 

A  ditch  intervened,  but  proved  no  obstacle,  and  on  we 
tore,  till  we  reached  the  low  fence  that  separated  the 
grounds  from  the  outbuildings.  Tigre  shot  under  it — I 
took  it  at  a  flying-leap.  He  was  making  for  the  barn,  and 
once  there,  he  would  baffle  me ;  some  favorite  hole  or  inac 
cessible  cranny  would  shelter  him  from  my  pursuit,  and  hide 
forever  from  human  gaze  my  ill-fated  glove.  This  goading 
thought  sustained  my  flagging  energy  in  the  same  propor 
tion  that  the  nearness  of  the  goal  reanimated  that  of  Tigre. 
On,  on,  with  desperate  resolve  !  Stephen  leaned  on  his 
spade  to  witness  the  issue  of  the  race,  Michael  paused,  the 
currycomb  in  his  suspended  hand,  to  see  the  result ;  and 
both  involuntarily  ejaculated,  "  Pretty  well  done  !"  as  on 
the  very  threshold  of  the  barn,  I  sprang  upon  my  opponent 
and  wrested  the  glove  from  his  determined  teeth !  And  in 
a  frantic  romp,  we  rolled  together  over  and  over  on  the 
hay,  Tigre's  active  paws  and  nose  in  my  very  face,  hia 
excitement  carrying  him  beyond  all  bounds  of  decorum,  and 
mine,  alas!  making  me  as  forgetful  of  all  proprieties;  till 
an  approaching  footstep  recalled  me  to  my  senses. 

Throwing  down  Tigre,  I  sprang  up,  and  tastily  shaking 
the  hay  from  my  dress,  and  pushing  back  my  disordered 
hair,  prepared  myself  for  the  lecture  I  knew  I  deserved, 
and  "cut  and  dried"  a  very  impertinent  rejoinder.  I 
might  have  saved  myself  the  trouble ;  Mr.  Rutledge  did  not 
take  any  more  notice  of  me  than  if  I  had  been  Tigre's  four- 
legged  and  shaggy  compatriot.  Passing  through  the  barn, 
he  called  up  one  of  the  men,  and  gave  him  orders  about  the 
storing  of  some  grain ;  sent  for  another  upon  the  question 
01  supplies ;  talked  with  Stephen  about  the  state  of  tho 
grape-vines ;  with  Michael  about  the  condition  of  the  colts ; 
inspected  the  poultry-yard ;  pronounced  upon  the  cattle ; 
equally  a  connoisseur,  and  thoroughly  at  home  on  every 
point, 


96  RUTLEDGE. 

During  this  time,  I  leaned  thoughtfully  against  the  barn 
door,  and  reviewed  my  own  conduct,  and  that  of  Mr.  Rut- 
ledge.  Of  course,  I  had  been  unladylike  and  all  that — I 
knew  it  as  well  as  anybody ;  but  then,  I  was  old  enough  to 
do  as  I  liked,  and  who  had  a  right  to  reprove  me  ?  Well, 
nobody  had  reproved  me.  But  then,  I  knew  just  as  well 
what  he  thought  of  me;  I  knew  he  considered  me  rude, 
disrespectful,  childish  ;  and  it  would  have  been  ten  times 
less  hateful  of  him  to  have  been  angry  and  done  with  it, 
than  to  have  taken  no  notice  of  me  in  any  way,  just  as  if  he 
had  at  once  dropped  me  out  of  his  esteem,  consideration 
and  recollection  altogether.  Angry,  humbled,  but  rebellious, 
I  lingered  a  long  while  near  him,  with  a  hope  that  he  would 
say  something  that  I  could  resent,  but  no  such  chance  was 
afforded  me.  Mr.  Rutledge's  whole  mind  was  given  to  his 
business;  and  sullenly  enough,  I  called  to  Tigre  and  turned 
toward  the  house.  It  was  unlucky  that  I  did  not  know  aow 
to  whistle — I  longed  to  whistle  a  tune,  and  put  my  hands  in 
my  pockets  with  a  jaunty  and  defiant  air  as  I  passed  Mr. 
Rutledge  on  my  way  to  the  house.  As  it  was,  I  was  obliged 
to  content  myself  with  the  significant  attitude  alone,  that 
was  meant  to  convey  tones  of  don't-care  saucincss  and  indif 
ference. 

I  did  not  feel  at  all  like  going  indoors  when  I  reached  the 
house,  though  it  was  growing  dark  very  rapidly ;  and  with 
Tigre  at  my  heels,  paced  for  a  long  while  up  and  down  the 
stone  walk  before  the  steps  of  the  piazza.  The  sound  of 
Mr.  Rutledge's  approaching  footsteps,  far  from  checking 
my  walk,  quickened  it  considerably,  and  calling  to  Tigre, 
just  as  he  reached  the  terrace,  I  started  at  a  brisk  pace 
down  the  avenue.  Mr.  Rutledge  stopped  and  called  me  ;  I 
went  on,  pretending  not  to  hear.  He  called  again,  and  this 
time  there  was  no  avoiding  it.  I  turned  sharply  round  and 
said: 

"  Did  you  speak,  sir  ?" 

"  It  is  too  late  for  you  to  be  out ;  you  will  take  cold." 


RTJTLEDGE.  97 

"  I  am  not  afraid,  sir,  I  shall  soon  be  in ;"  and  I  turned 
away. 

"  But  it  is  too  late,"  repeated  Mr.  Rutledge,  in  a  voice  I 
could  not  mistake.  "  You  must  excuse  my  interference,  but 
I  should  prefer  your  coming  in  now." 

I  looked  down  the  avenue,  the  moon  was  just  rising,  theugh 
day  had  not  quite  faded  in  the  west;  I  wondered  what 
would  be  the  result  if  I  dared  rebel ;  I  almost  determined 
I  would.  But  I  glanced  toward  the  house  ;  Mr.  Rutledge 
stood  holding  the  door  open  for  me  with  a  resolute  quietness 
that  made  resistance  impossible.  With  a  bad  enough  grace 
I  turned  back,  ran  up  the  steps,  and  passed  through  the 
doorway  without  raising  my  eyes,  and  never  stopped  till  I 
had  gained  the  second  story,  and  locked  myself  into  my 
own  room.  Most  bitter  and  most  extravagant  tears  I  shed 
of  course,  veiy  angry  and  very  implacable  resolves  I  made ; 
and  finished  off  by  a  violent  fit  of  contrition  and  humility 
under  the  influence  of  which  I  started  to  my  feet,  auc 
remembering  that  it  was  long  past  tea-time,  hastily 
smoothed  my  hair,  and  followed  by  my  little  favorite,  ran 
quickly  down  the  stairs  and  paused  a  moment  at  the  library 
door.  All  contrition,  I  half  opened  it,  and  looking  in,  with 
a  most  April-like  face,  whereon  smiles  and  tears  contended, 
said  humbly : 

"  May  Tigre  and  I  come  in,  sir  ?" 

Mr.  Rutledge  sat  reading  by  the  fire ;  tea  was  en  the 
table.  He  looked  up  a  moment,  then  resumed  his  book. 

"  Without  doubt ;  tea  is  waiting." 

I  came  up  to  the  fire,  and  stood  leaning  against  the 
mantelpiece.  If  he  would  only  look  up,  and  not  be  so  hope 
lessly  cold  and  indifferent !  My  penitent  speeches  fled  at 
the  sight ;  I  could  never  tell  him  how  ashamed  and  sorry  I 
felt,  while  he  looked  so.  He  did  not  look  any  otherwise, 
however,  all  through  the  uncomfortable  meal,  that  I 
thought  never  meant  to  end ;  nor  during  the  uncomfortable 
hours  that  succeeded  the  uncomfortable  meal,  that  seemed 


98  RUTLEDGE, 

to  stretch  out,  like  a  clown's  leg,  indefinitely  and  inter 
minably. 

I  had  time  to  realize  and  become  very  well  acquainted 
with  the  fact,  that  I  had  forfeited  the  newly-acquired  position 
of  companion,  and  had  sunk  to  the  capricious  child  again. 
He  had  just  begun  to  treat  me  like  a  reasonable  crpature, 
and  to  talk  to  me  for  something  besides  the  kindness  of 
amusing  me,  and  now  by  my  own  folly,  I  had  made  an  end 
to  all  this,  and  compelled  him  to  see  in  me  nothing  but  child 
ishness  and  self-will." 

Mr.  Rutledge,  after  tea,  had  taken  up  his  book  again, 
and  pushed  across  the  table  to  ne  some  new  reviews  that 
had  come  that  day,  saying,  perhaps  I  might  find  something 
amusing  in  them.  That  meant  I  was  to  amuse  myself. 
That  meant  there  was  to  be  no  talking,  no  reading  aloud,  no 
dictating  of  letters. 

"  It's  all  Tigre's  fault,  the  little  villain !»  I  ejaculated, 
mentally,  pushing  him  angrily  down  from  my  lap,  as  I  took  up 
the  literature  assigned  me.  The  discarded  favorite  uttered 
a  low  whine,  looked  pleadingly  up  hi  my  angry  face,  then 
walked  over  to  his  master,  and  putting  his  paws  on  the  arm 
of  his  chair,  wagged  his  tail,  and  looked  imploringly  for 
permission  to  spring  up.  But  an  impatient "  Off,  sir !"  made 
him  withdraw  abashed,  and,  standing  on  the  rug  between 
us,  he  gazed  wonderingly  from  one  to  the  other.  If  it  had 
not  been  for  the  precedent  of  "  the  dog  in  the  manger," 
and  the  proverbial  comparison  of  all  cross  people  to  "  Hall's 
dog,"  I  should  have  •  been  certain  that  such  scenes  were 
entirely  new  to  Tigre,  and  that  in  the  bosom  of  his  family 
bad  tempers  were  unknown.  As  it  was,  he  looked  very 
much  mystified  and  considerably  shocked ;  and  at  length  con 
eluded  to  lie  down  where  he  was,  at  an  equal  distance  from 
both  antagonists,  to  whose  movements,  however,  he  lent  an 
attentive  eye  and  ear.  But  there  was  not  much  to  repay 
his  watchfulness  ;  for  beyond  an  occasional  symptom  of 
fatigue  on  my  part,  and  the  periodical  turning  of  the 


BUT  LEDGE.  99 

leaves  of  Mr.  Rutledge's    book,   dire    and    entire  quiet 
reigned. 

At  last,  at  half  past  nine,  I  sprang  up,  determined  to  put 
an  end  to  such  an  evening ;  and  with  a  firm  resolution  not 
to  say  more  than  the  one  necessary  word,  "  good  night,"  I 
looked  furtively  toward  my  companion.  He  had  closed  the 
book,  and  leaning  his  face  on  his  hand  sat  looking  ipto  the 
fire.  Just  so  he  had  looked  the  other  night  when  I  had 
felt  so  sorry  for  him ;  and  perhaps  I  felt  the  least  bit  sorry 
now.  To  my  good  night,  he  replied,  carelessly,  "  Good 
night  5"  then,  looking  up  at  the  clock,  said : 

"  It  is  early  yet." 

"  But  I  am  very  tired,"  and  I  moved  toward  the  door. 
"1  forgot  to  ask  you,  sir,"  I  said,  turning  back,  whether 
you  had  any  letters  you  would  like  to  have  answered  ?" 

"  No,  thank  you ;  none  of  any  importance.  You  need 
not  stay." 

Contrition,  pity,  good  resolutions,  etc.,  all  rushed  over 
me;  making  three  steps  back  into  the  room,  and  swal 
lowing  down  the  rebellious  pride  and  temper,  I  came  out 
with — 

"  If  I  am  a  child,  sir,  I  am  old  enough  to  know  when  I 
have  done  wrong,  and  not  too  old  to  be  willing  to  acknow 
ledge  it.  I  am  very  well  aware  that  I  have  been  rude  and 
disrespoctful  to  you,  and  I  hope  you  will  have  the  goodness 
to  excuse  it." 

He  looked  at  me  for  a  moment  with  a  puzzled  air,  as  if 
he  had  not  quite  expected  the  sudden  humiliation ;  though  I 
am  not  sure  that  my  attitude  implied  so  much  of  humiliation 
as  it  did  of  determined  conscientiousness.  After  a  moment's 
quiet  scrutiny,  which  I  bore  unflinchingly,  he  said : 

"I  am  not  quite  sure  that  I  understand  to  what  you 
allude,  nor  how  I  come  to  be  entitled  to  pass  judgment  or 
your  conduct.  Pray  explain." 

The  blood  mounted  to  my  temples  as  I  answered : 

"  I  acknowledged  my  faults  to  you,  because  they  wer* 


100  RUTLEDGE. 

committed  against  you;  because  to  you  I  owed  respect, 
attention,  and  courtesy,  which  I  failed  to  show.  I  owed 
this  to  you  as  my  elder,  my  host,  and  the  person  who,  in  a 
manner,  had  charge  of  me." 

"You  seem  to  have  analyzed  your  duty  pretty  tho 
roughly,  I  must  acknowledge  !  You  have  stricter  views  of 
duty  than  most  persons  of  your  age." 

"  I  don't  resent  the  sarcasm,  sir  ;  I  know  it  is  well 
merited." 

"  I  did  not  intend  it  sarcastically.  I  say  again  you  have 
shown  a  habit  of  mind,  that,  if  persevered  in,  will  lead  you 
to  a  high  standard  of  excellence." 

"  My  failures  in  duty,  since  I  came  here,  sir,  have  beer 
too  conspicuous  to  let  me  understand  you  literally." 

"  You  judge  yourself  severely;  I  cannot  recall  any  very 
flagrant  offences." 

"  They  would  not,"  I  said,  as  steadily  as  I  could,  "  be 
likely  to  make  the  same  impression  on  you  as  on  me ;  with 
me  they  were  matters  of  conscience  ;  with  you  they  were, 
I  hope,  only  occasion  of  momentary  surprise,  or  better,  of 
indifference  and  inattention." 

"  On  the  contrary,"  said  Mr.  Rutledge,  "  I  have  watcked 
you  attentively  since  you  came  here,  and  have  taken  quite 
a  strong  interest  in  all  you  have  said  and  done." 

"  You  are  kind,"  I  exclaimed,  nettled  more  at  the  tone 
than  the  words.  "  Then  I  shall  have  to  be  doubly  careful 
while  I  have  tho  honor  to  be  under  your  eye." 

He  went  on,  as  if  he  had  not  heard  me :  "  It  has  ap 
peared  to  me  that  you  are  in  most  respects  " 

"  I  must  beg,"  I  exclaimed,  with  an  impatient  gesture, 
"  that  you  will  defer  your  summary  till  I  am  in  a  better 
frame  of  mind  to  bear  it.  Just  now,  it  wouldn't  be  as  pro 
fitable  as  you,  no  doubt,  desire  to  make  it." 

"  I  should  be  sorry,"  he.  replied,  "  to  spoil  the  humility 
you  have  taken  such  pains  to  get  in  order  for  the  occasion 
and  will  not  say  a  word  to  interfere  with  it." 


ED  TLfiDGK.  101 

"  Do  you  know  humility  when  you  see  it,  sir  ?"  I  could 
not  help  saying  under  my  breath. 

"  I  learned  a  good  deal  about  it  when  I  was  young,"  ne 
answered,  "  and  thought,  till  I  came  to  years  of  discretion, 
that  I  knew  all  that  could  be  taught  in  regard  to  it.  But 
I  have  since  discovered  that  there  is  more  spurious  coin 
bearing  that  stamp  than  almost  any  other ;  false  pride, 
wounded  vanity,  morbid  self-love,  all  get  themselves  up 
wilder  the  title  of  humility,  and  pass  current  very  readily." 
•  I  bowed.  "  Wounded  vanity  fits  me,  I  think.  May  I 
retire,  sir,  if  you  have  nothing  further  to  say  ?" 

"  But  I  have,"  he  exclaimed,  suddenly  changing  his  tone. 
"  I  have  a  great  deal  more  to  say."  And,  taking  my  hand, 
he  drew  me  down  into  the  chair  beside  him,  and  looking  at 
me  with  a  mixture  of  kindness  and  mirth,  he  said : 

"  So  you  are  beginning  to  feel  ashamed  of  yourself,  are 
you  ?  You  are  such  an  absurd  child,  it  is  impossible  to  be 
angry  with  you,  or  tired  of  you,  for  you  are  never  two 
minutes  alike.  Upon  my  word  you're  quite  a  study !" 

He  did  not  let  go  my  hand,  and  though  I  turned  my  face 
away,  I  could  not  escape  his  eyes. 

"  The  uncertain  glory  of  an  April  day,"  he  exclaimed. 
"  Why,  a  minute  ago  you  were  angry,  then  you  were 
pleased,  now  you  are  frightened,  and  I  suppose  you  will 
wind  up  with  a  burst  of  tears.  How  is  one  to  take  you  ?" 

For  this  style  of  lecture  I  had  not  any  retort  ready,  so  I 
only  hung  my  head,  and  was  silent. 

"  One  moment  you  are  a  woman,  intelligent  and  sensible, 
the  next  a  pettish  child.  One  day  you  show  a  sympathy,  a 
tact,  a  depth  of  feeling,  that  go  to  one's  very  heart ;  the 
next,  capricious,  silly,  and  childish,  you  destroy  it  all. 
Sometimes  you  amuse  yourself  with  Tigre,  sometimes  with 
me.  And,"  he  continued,  after  a  pause,  "  sometimes  you 
talk  too  much,  and  sometimes,  as  at  present,  for  instance, 
too  little.  Well  ?"  he  went  on,  interrogatively,  having 
elicited  no  reply.  "  Well  ?  Have  you  nothing  to  say  fot 


102  KUTLEDGE, 

yourself?  Then  go !"  he  exclaimed,  throwing  ray  hand 
from  him.  "  I  am  tired  of  you ;  you've  been  one  thing  too 
long  ;  you've  been  silent  exactly  two  minutes.'' 

I  got  up  very  quickly,  and  retreated  toward  the  door. 

"  What  ?"  said  Mr.  Rutledge,  rising  and  standing  by  the 
fire.  "You  are  going?  Why,  we  have  but  just  made 
up." 

"  I  am  not  quite  positive  that  we  have,"  I  answered, 
lighting  my  candle.  "  It's  rather  a  one-sided  make-up,  it 
strikes  me." 

"  How  so  ?  You  surely  havenvc  any  complaint  to  make 
of  me,  after  all  my  unexampled  goodness  to  you  ?" 

"  Of  course  not !"  I  exclaimed ;  "  nothing  to  say  about 
your  treating  me  like  a  baby,  and  expecting  me  to  behave 
like  a  woman,  making  me  talk  to  make  you  laugh,  and  put 
ting  my  French  and  my  temper  to  the  hardest  tests  you 
could  think  of;  and  then,  after  I've  vexed  you  by  a  little 
inattention,  pushing  me  aside,  as  if  I  weren't  capable  of 
understanding  a  reproof,  and  turning  your  back  on  me  for  a 
whole  evening.  JThave  nothing  to  complain  of,  of  course! 
Good  night,  sir." 

"  Stay  a  moment !  You  take  away  my  breath  with  all 
that  catalogue.  I  tease  you !  I  laugh  at  you !  Impos 
sible  !" 

"  So  I  said,  sir ;  and  now,  if  you  please,  good  night." 

"  Ah  !  I  see  I  must  get  you  away  to  your  aunt ;  I  shall 
spoil  you  if  I  keep  you  here  much  longer.  You  are  getting 
very  saucy ;  Miss  Crowen  wouldn't  own  you." 

"  I  am  afraid  you  are  right  there,"  I  said,  with  a  littlo 
sigh  ;  "  I  don't  think  I  am  improving  very  much." 

"  Well,  then,"  he  said,  seriously,  "  suppose  we  deter 
mine  to  do  better  for  the  future,  and  instead  of  trifling 
and  teasing,  be  good  sensible  friends.  Will  that  suit 
you?" 

"  I  think  it  would  be  about  as  one-sided  a  friendship  ai 
the  reconciliation  was." 


RUTLEDGE.  103 

"  Why  ?     Are  you  not  willing  to  be  my  friend  ?" 

"  Of  course  I  am;  but  friendship  implies  equality,  and  all 
that  sort  of  thing,  and  the  power  to  help  each  other.  Now, 
you  know  the  absurdity  of  my  being  your  friend,  as  well  as 
I  know  it,  and  you  are  laughing  at  me." 

"  Do  I  look  as  if  I  were  laughing  at  you  ?"  And  indeed 
he  did  not. 

"  Well,  but,"  I  continued,  "  you  know  perfectly  well  I 
like  you,  and  would  do  anything  in  the  world  to  serve  you, 
but  that  cannot  make  up  for  my  inability  to  do  it,  you 
see." 

"  You  can  do  a  great  deal  to  help  me,"  he  answered. 
"  There  are  a  hundred  ways  in  which  you  can  prove  your 
self  my  friend." 

I  laughed  incredulously. 

"  You  doubt  it  ?"  he  said.  "Listen,  little  girl.  1  have 
not  many  friends.  1  do  not  choose  to  believe  in  many 
people.  I  choose  to  believe  in  you ;  therefore  you  can  do 
me  a  kindness  by  keeping  alive  in  my  heart  a  little  faith  in 
human  nature.  I  have  many  cares  to  harass  me  in  the  pre 
sent  ;  much  that  is  sad  to  remember  of  the  past.  By  your 
youth  and  cheerfulness  you  can  brighten  the  one ;  by  your 
gentleness  and  sympathy  you  can  soothe  the  recollections 
of  the  other.  Youth  is  gone  from  me  forever,  but  you  can 
be  the  link  between  it  and  me,  and  keep  it  in  sight  a  little 
longer.  You  can  show  me  what  I  once  was,  earnest,  hope 
ful,  and  trusting,  and  so  keep  me  from  forgetting  what  I 
should  be.  Above  all,  you  can  be  honest,  and  never  de 
ceive  me ;  and  faithful,  and  never  withdraw  from  your 
allegiance.  This  is  what  you  can  do  for  me  :  now,  what  can 
I  do  for  you  ?" 

I  tried  to  speak,  but  the  words  wouldn't  come,  so  he 
helped  me  to  them. 

"  You  find  it  difficult  to  enumerate  my  duties  ?  Some 
thing  like  this,  perhaps,  is  what  you  will  require  of  me.  I 
must  be  careful  not  to  wound  the  sensitiveness  of  one  natn- 


104  BUT  LEDGE. 

rally  much  more  susceptible  to  unkindness  than  myself.  I 
must  bear  patiently  with  childish  faults,  and  not  forget  the 
indulgence  due  to  youth.  I  must  be  just  and  unflattering, 
and  when  my  maturer  judgment  suggests  amendment,  it  is 
my  duty,  is  it  not,  to  point  it  out  ?  For  having  been  over 
the  same  ground  that  you  are  to  travel,  I  can  give  you 
many  hints  that  will  make  your  path  an  easier  one,  if  you 
will  but  receive  them.  And  finally,  I  am  to  have  your  in 
terest  always  at  heart,  and  to  observe  the  same  faith  and 
truthfulness  toward  you  that  I  expect  you  to  maintain  to 
ward  me.  Will  you  subscribe  to  that  ?  Is  it  what  you 
would  require  of  me  ?" 

"  Yes,  that  is  fair,  I  think." 

"  Well,  then,  give  me  your  hand  upon  it,  and  remember 
the  compact  is  sealed ;  we  are  friends  henceforth !  Stay, 
what  shall  we  have  as  a  reminder  of  this  promise  ?  Some 
pledge,  some  security  is  necessary,  for  we  might  forget,  in 
the  lapse  of  years,  you  know." 

He  went  up  to  an  escritoire  in  a  distant  corner  of  the 
room,  and  unlocking  it,  took  from  a  secret  drawer  two  or 
three  little  boxes,  and  from  these  selecting  one,  replaced 
the  others,  turned  the  key,  and  came  back  to  the  table. 
The  box  contained  a  bracelet  of  curious  foreign  coins,  hand- 
Bornely  mounted — a  very  unique  and  elegant  ornament. 
This  Mr.  Rutledge  proceeded  to  fit  around  my  wrist,  and 
with  my  assistance  (having  the  use  of  only  one  hand) 
clasped. 

"  Are  you  willing  to  wear  it  always,"  he  said,  "  in  mem- 
oriam  ?" 

"Yes." 

"  Well,  then  good  bye  to  liberty !"  and  he  turned  a  tiny 
gold  key  that  I  had  not  noticed  in  the  clasp,  and  took  it 
out.  I  must  confess  to  a  feeling  not  unlike  bondage  when 
the  lock  was  snapped  and  the  key  withdrawn ;  and  invohm. 
i.arily  exclaimed  : 

"  But  what  if  I  want  to  take  it  off  2" 


K  U  T  L  E  i>  <*  E  ,  105 

"You  must  not  want  to,  the  thing  is  irrevocable,"  he 
said  coolly,  fastening  the  key  upon  his  watch-chain,  "help 
me  with  this.  I  have  but  one  hand,  you  know." 

"  I  don't  altogether  like  the  idea,"  I  said  obeying  him 
nevertheless,  and  arranging  the  little  key  on  his  chain. 

"  You  should  have  thought  of  that  before,"  he  said  with 
a  laugh.  "  It  is  t<jo  late  to  retract.  You  may  well  look 
serious,"  he  continued  noticing  my  expression.  "  You  for 
got,  when  you  made  it,  what  a  solemn  thing  a  promise 
was;  but  now  you'll  have  something  to  remind  you  of  its 
weight,  and  of  the  impossibility  of  getting  rid  of  it.  There's 
no  danger  now  that  you'll  forget  you  promised  to  be 
my  friend ;  you  are  bound,  irrevocably,  solemnly,  for 
ever  !" 

"  I  thought  you  weren't  to  tease,"  I  exclaimed  shaking 
my  arm.  "  It's  a  very  pretty  thing,  but  I  shall  hate  it  if  I 
feel  that  I  must  wear  it  always,  and  that  I  can't  take  it  off 
when  I  want  to." 

"  That's  exactly  what  I  meant  to  guard  against.  If  you 
could  take  it  off  whenever  you  were  tired  of  it,  you  would 
of  course  soon  throw  it  aside,  and  there  would  be  an  end 
of  compact,  friendship  and  all.  I  hope  you  know  me  bettei 
than  to  suppose  I  would  be  satisfied  with  such  an  arrange 
ment  !  Now,  no  matter  how  many  little  obstacles  in  the 
way  of  oceans,  mountains,  and  other  imbecile  contrivances 
of  Nature  for  the  separation  of  friends,  intervene,  I  shall 
feel  as  if  I  had  a  check  upon  your  Conduct,  a  guardian  of 
my  place  in  your  affections  that  will  make  me  quite  easy 
about  it.  For  you  know  of  course,  the  legends  that  are 
related  of  such  gifts.  I  hope  you  are  not  superstitious,  but 
you  remember  the  power  attributed  to  them ;  how  such  a 
pledge  will  surely  take  the  giver's  part,  and  grow  tighter 
and  tighter  till  the  pain  is  unnedurable  should  the  wearer, 
in  her  inmost  heart,  harbor  a  thought  of  treachery  or  faith 
lessness." 

"  I  suppose,  sir,  having  my  arm  amputated  in  case  I 

5* 


106  BUTLEDGE. 

changed  iny  mind,  would  free  me  from  tne  obligation  of 
wearing  it,  would  it  not  ?" 

Mr.  Rutledge  shook  his  head  gravely. 

"  I  am  not  of  the  opinion  that  it  would ;  but  1  hope  wa 
shall  not  have  to  proceed  to  any  such  extreme  measures." 

"  Oh,  it's  my  left  arm,  I  shouldn't  mind  very  much.  You 
manage  so  well  with  one,  that  I  should  feel  encouraged  by 
your  example,  if  my  handcuff  should  grow  too  unbearable." 

"  Still  there  are  advantages  in  possessing  the  use  of  both, 
that  I  would  not  advise  you  to  give  up  unnecessarily.  For 
instance,  if  you  wanted  a  cigar  from  the  case  on  the  top  of 
that  etagere,  which  cannot  be  reached  down  without  two 
hands,  your  temper  would  be  severely  tried  in  having  to 
ring  for  Thomas  to  get  it  for  you,  or  having  to  depend 
upon  the  uncertain  charity  of  a  most  capricious  friend  who 
might  or  might  not,  be  in  the  humor  to  serve  you." 

"  But  I  shouldn't  be  likely  to  want  a  cigar,"  I  said  as 
standing  in  a  chair  I  lifted  down  the  case,  and  took  out  one. 

"  There  are  matches  on  the  mantelpiece,"  he  said  non 
chalantly  as  I  handed  it  to  him.  I  brought  the  matches, 
drew  one,  and  held  it  for  him,  as  he  lit  his  cigar. 

"  Anything  more  sir  ?" 

"  Nothing  but  the  evening  paper,  which  you  interrupted 
me  in  reading,  half  an  hour  ago." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,  but  you  haven't  had  a  paper  in 
your  hand  since  tea,"  I  said,  hunting  among  the  piles  of 
books  and  papers  on  the  table  for  it.  "  Here  it  is.  Good 
night." 

"  Doesn't  common  kindness  suggest  your  staying  to 
read  it  for  me." 

"  No  sir,  it  hasn't  suggested  it  as  yet,"  I  replied  as  I 
took  up  my  long  neglected  caudle.  "  It  suggests  '  good 
night,'  sir,"  and  the  door  closed  between  us  before  he  could 
answer. 

The  moon  was  making  my  room  so  bright,  that  I  soon 
put  out  the  candle  as  superfluous,  and  wrapping  my  dress* 


RUT  LEDGE.  107 

ing  gown  about  me,  sat  in  the  bay  window  for  a  long, 
long  while,  watching  the  soft  shadows  on  the  lawn,  and  the 
silvery  smoothness  of  the  lake.  Ah  !  how  hateful  it  would 
be  to  leave  this  quiet  place,  and  go  among  strangers  again ! 
The  idea  of  city  life  had  never  been  altogether  attractive, 
but  now  seemed  most  distasteful.  Altogether,  my  new 
home  in  New  York  did  not  to-night  attract  my  errant 
fancy,  neither  did  the  old  school  life  draw  it  back  regret 
fully,  from  a  Present  so  sufficing  that  I  did  not  ask  myself 
why  it  was  better  than  Past  or  Future  ;  nor  why  my  fancy, 
usually  so  eager  on  the  wing,  should  lie  so  contentedly  in 
80  calm  a  neat 


CHAPTER 


•<  Be  good,  sweet  child,  and  let  who  will  be  clever, 
Do  noble  things,  not  dream  them,  all  day  long 
So  ahalt  thou  make  life,  death,  and  that  vast  forever, 
One  grand,  sweet  song." 

Knrosunr. 

**  No  one  who  aspires  to  the  honor  of  waiting  my  let 
feers,"  said  Mr.  Rutledge,  as  I  entered  the  breakfast-roc  m, 
"  can  indulge  in  such  late  hours  as  these.  Twenty  minutes 
to  eight,  Mademoiselle,  and  the  mail  goes  at  ten.  You  are 
getting  in  shocking  habits. 

"Why  sir!"  I  exclaimed,  "I've  been  up  two  hours  at 
least." 

"  And  what  have  you  been  doing  all  that  time,  I  should 
like  to  be  informed  ?" 

"  I've  been  to  the  barn  and  fed  the  kittens,  and  to  the 
stable  and  fed  the  dogs  ;  and  then  I  went  to  the  garden 
for  some  flowers,  but  the  frost  had  been  there  before  me 
and  there  wasn't  one  worth  pulling.  So  to  get  warm  (it's 
very  chilly  out  this  morning)  I  ran  down  the  avenue,  and 
across  to  the  chestnut  wood,  and  so  home  by  the  lake. 
And  here  are  all  the  chestnuts  those  rascally  village  boys 
have  left  !"  I  exclaimed,  throwing  a  couple  of  handfuls  on 
the  table.  "  I  do  wonder,  sir,  you  allow  them  to  commit 
such  trespasses,  so  near  the  house  too.  I  would  keep  at 
least  that  grove  for  my  own  use.  I  never  saw  finer  trees, 
and  a  week  ago  they  were  loaded,  Stephen  says.  Yester 
day  morning  there  were  two  boys  up  threshing  one  of  the 
larger,t  trees  ;  I  heard  them,  just  as  I  came  under  it  ;  the 
nuts  were  falling  down  nicely,  so  I  began  to  pick  them  up 
as  unconcernedly  as  possible,  and  got  my  pockets  and 

108 


K  TT  T  L  E  D  a  E  . 

apron  full,  while  the  young  vagabonds  up  in  the  tree  didn't 
dare,  of  course,  to  breathe,  for  fear  of  being  discovered 
and  had  to  see  me  carrying  off  their  precious  nuts  without 
a  word.  I  didn't  leave  a  shell,  I  assure  you ;  I  never  en 
joyed  anything  more  and  went  down  this  morning  in  hopo 
of  another  adventure." 

"  I  hope,"  said  Mr.  Rutledge  very  seriously,  "  that  you 
will  never  do  such  an  imprudent  thing  again.  You  should 
never  go  into  the  woods  without  taking  Kitty  with  you, 
least  of  all,  when  there  are  such  marauders  about." 

"  I  took  Solo  and  Dash  with  ine,  and  I  would  have  kept 
them  up  there  till  noon,  if  I  had  caught  them  at  it  again, 
the  i-ascals." 

"  You  are  very  thoughtless,  not  to  be  aware  of  tne  dan 
ger  of  provoking  such  lawless  fellows." 

"  I  cannot  see  the  danger ;  not  half  a  mile  from  the 
house,  and  with  two  great  dogs  to  back  me.  And  '  if  the 
worst  came  to  the  worst,'  I  know  I  could  outrun  the  long 
est-legged  loafer  among  them." 

The  words  were  hardly  out  of  my  mouth,  when  I  remem 
bered  that  this  latter  accomplishment  had  not  appeared  to 
win  me  any  favor  from  Mr.  Rutledge  in  the  unlucky  affair 
of  the  glove  yesterday  ;  and,  with  a  blush,  I  hastily,  by  way 
of  effacing  the  impression,  continued  : 

"  But  if  you  don't  approve,  of  course  I  will  not  do  so 
again ;  and  when  Kitty  can't  be  spared  to  go  with  me,  I 
will  stay  nearer  the  house." 

"  Kitty  always  can  be  spared,  and  though  I  am  sorry  to 
insist  upon  your  taking  her,  I  shall  be  much  better  satisfied 
to  know  you  are  not  alone." 

"  Very  well,  sir.     May  I  trouble  you  for  another  biscuit  ?" 

"  You  have  a  fine  color  this  morning.  Rutledge  agrees 
with  you." 

"  Famously,"  I  replied,  applying  myself  with  great  satis 
faction  to  my  breakfast ;  "  and  as  I  have  so  much  to  do 
before  ten  o'clook,  there's  no  time  to  lose." 


110  B  U  T  L  E  D  G  E  . 

"  Not  a  minute ;  "but  I  should  be  uncomfortable  to  think 
you  were  starved ;  don't  hurry  so  frantically." 

"  There  !  I'm  ready  now,"  I  exclaimed,  in  a  few  minutes 
following  him  into  the  library  with  a  light  step,  and  singing 
snatches  of  a  gay  tune. 

"  I  see  you  do  not  dread  work,"  he  said,  as  I  sat  down 
before  the  writing-table,  and  took  up  a  pen  with  alacrity. 

"  Not  when  I  can  see  daylight  through  it,  sir,  and  a  rea 
sonable  prospect  ahead  of  getting  it  done.  Now,  sir." 

And  Mr.  Rutledge  dictated,  and  I  wrote  for  an  hour, 
without  the  slightest  intermission.  At  the  end  of  that  time 
he  said : 

"  Do  you  think  you  are  equal  to  the  task  of  answering 
those  two  letters  by  yourself,  of  which  I  will  give  you  a 
general  idea,  while  I  look  over  those  accounts  with  Mau 
rice  and  Ruthven,  to  be  added  to  the  New  Orleans  letter  ? 
It  is  important  that  they  should  all  be  dispatched  to-day." 

"  If  you  are  willing  to  trust  me,  I  am  willing  to  try." 

And  I  immediately  began  the  task.  It  was  by  no  meana 
an  easy  one ;  but  by  referring  to  the  letters  to  be  answered, 
and  by  keeping  before  my  mind  the  synopsis  Mr.  Rutledge 
had  briefly  given  me,  I  was  able  to  finish  them  to  his  satis 
faction  ;  added  the  memoranda  he  had  been  making  to  the 
other  letter,  sealed  and  addressed  them  all,  and  had  the 
package  ready  for  Michael  when  he  appeared  at  the  door  at 
ten  o'clock. 

"  You  have  worked  pretty  well  for  two  hours,"  said  Mr. 
Rutledge,  as  for  a  moment  I  leaned  my  head  on  my  hand. 
"  I  am  afraid  you  are  tired." 

"  Not  in  the  least,"  I  said  bravely,  looking  up. 

"  Then  get  your  bonnet  and  come  out  with  me.  It  is  too 
fine  a  day  to  stay  in  the  house." 

As  I  followed  him  through  the  hall,  Mrs.  Roberts  en 
countered  us  at  the  dining-room  door.  Her  greeting  to 
me  was  stiffer  than  ever.  To  Mr.  Rutledge  she  said : 

"  If  you  can  spare  the  tune,  sir,  you  would  oblige  me  very 


KDT  LEDGE. 

much  by  looking  over  the  '  household  expenses '  this  morn 
ing  ;  Dorothy  has  got  her  account  with  the  grocer  in  a  great 
snarl,  and  hasn't  done  much  better  with  the  butcher,  and  I 
can't  make  them  all  come  out  right." 

"  My  good  friend,"  said  Mr.  Rutledge,  "  if  you  had  ap 
pealed  to  me  any  other  time,  I  might  have  helped  you,  but 
I  have  been  doing  quite  as  much  this  morning  as  I  think 
prudent ;  to-morrow  I  will  attend  to  the  books." 

"  I  am  sorry,"  said  Mrs.  Roberts,  uneasily ;  "  but  to-day 
is  the  day  the  grocer  brings  in  his  account,  and  I  don't  like 
those  sort  of  people  to  suppose  there's  any  irregularity  in 
the  accounts  we  keep.  They're  always  ready  enough  to 
take  advantage." 

"  Couldn't  I  help  you,  Mrs.  Roberts  ?"  I  asked.  "  I  should 
be  very  willing  to." 

She  gave  me  a  look  which  plainly  said,  "  You  help  me  /" 
but  she  merely  answered : 

"  Thank  you,  Miss,  but  Mr.  Rutledge  understands  the 
books  better  than  any  one ;  and  if  he  felt  able  " 

"  But  he  doesn't,"  said  the  gentleman  in  question.  "  The 
grocer  can  come  to-morrow  with  his  bill.  It  will  not  sig 
nify  for  once." 

Still  Mrs.  Roberts  demurred,  and  I  saw  there  would  be 
no  peace  till  she  worried  Mr.  Rutledge  into  it,  so  I  renewed 
my  offer  of  assistance.  This  time  it  seemed  to  strike  her 
in  a  more  favorable  light. 

"  If  I  didn't  mind  the  trouble,  perhaps  I  might  help  her 
reckon  it  up.  She  wasn't  as  quick  at  figures  as  she  used  to 
be." 

I  would  do  my  best,  I  said,  untying  my  bonnet.  But 
Mr.  Rutledge  peremptorily  interfered. 

"  By  no  means,  Mrs.  Roberts.  She  has  been  writing  two 
hours  already  for  me  ;  she  must  have  nothing  more  at  pre 
sent,"  and  he  walked  on  toward  the  door. 

But  the  housekeeper  was  by  no  means  vanquished,  and 
tenaciously  to  my  offer.  She  was  sure,  she  said, 


112  BUTLEDCTE. 

the  young  lady  would  be  glad  to  oblige  an  old  woman 
And  duty  so  plainly  pointed  that  way,  that  I  wavered  no 
longer.  I  had  made  up  my  mind  to  be  kind  to  Mrs. 
Roberts;  here  was  the  chance  to  carry  my  good  resolu« 
tions  into  effect.  Throwing  my  bonnet  into  a  chair,  I 
said: 

"  If  you  will  excuse  me  from  walking  with  you,  Mr.  Rut- 
edge,  I  will  see  what  I  can  do  to  help  Mrs.  Roberts." 

"  I  cannot  excuse  you,"  he  replied,  with  decision.  "  I 
do  not  think  it  best  for  you  to  be  confined  to  the  house  any 
longer  at  present." 

"  Oh,"  I  exclaimed,  while  Mrs.  Roberts  looked  on  anx 
iously,  "I  have  been  used  to  studying  and  writing  nine 
hours  out  of  the  twenty-four  at  school,  and  this  morning's 
business  has  been  mere  play.  I  shall  not  think  of  feeling 
tired  for  hours  yet,  so  please  do  not  make  any  objections. 
Come,  Mrs.  Roberts,"  I  continued,  going  toward  the  stairs, 
and  giving  her  a  little  nod. 

She  hesitated,  and  I  saw  her  glance  uneasily  at  Mr.  Rut- 
ledge.  I  now  perceived  that  he  was  more  than  vexed ;  bu* 
I  was  strong  enough  to  dare  even  that,  when  I  was  as  cer 
tain  as  I  now  was  about  what  I  ought  to  do.  Pie  naturally, 
I  thought,  didn't  like  to  have  his  wishes  interfered  with ; 
but  that  could  not  alter  the  right  for  me,  "  and  he  cannot 
help  but  see  that  when  he  thinks  it  over."  So  again  sum 
moning  Mrs.  Roberts,  I  excused  myself  to  him,  and  ran  up 
stairs,  followed  lumberingly  by  the  housekeeper,  while  the 
hall  door  closed,  with  no  gentle  emphasis,  between  us  and 
the  sunny  autumn  morning. 

•/  ~ 

I  am  only  doing  Mrs.  Roberts  justice,  when  I  say  that  on 
that  pai'ticular  occasion,  she  manifested  diplomatic  talents, 
which,  in  another  sphere  of  life,  would  have  won  her  no 
inconsiderable  place.  I  had  not  given  her  credit  for  tne 
tact  and  acuteness  that  developed  themselves  that  morning, 
and  which,  added  to  her  well-known  decision  and  unalter 
»ble  devotion  to  the  one  idea  that  happened  to  be  upp«r 


ETTTLEDGE.  11C 

most,  formed  the  elements  of  a  character  I  had  not  suf 
ficiently  looked  up  to.  This,  of  course,  I  did  not  appreciate 
at  first,  and  went  at  my  task  with  the  kindest  desire  to  get 
Mrs.  Roberts  out  of  her  perplexity,  and  unravel  the  tangled 
threads  of  Dorothy's  arithmetical  inaccuracies. 

It  was  the  greatest  effort  of  self-denial  that  I  could  well 
have  attempted,  for  besides  the  heroism  required  to  give  up 
my  walk  with  Mr.  Rutledge,  on  this  splendid  day,  and 
.spending  the  morning  instead  with  the  only  person  I 
sincerely  disliked  in  the  house,  and  in  the  room  of  all  others 
that  I  was  most  averse  to,  was  added  my  unconquerable 
detestation  of  mathematical  calculations  of  all  kinds.  From 
the  multiplication  table  up,  I  held  all  such  exercises  in 
abomination.  But  Miss  Crowen,  with  her  usual  discrimina 
tion,  having  detected  this  weak  point  in  my  character,  bent 
her  whole  mind  to  the  strengthening  of  it,  and  night  and 
day,  labored  to  instill  into  my  unwilling  brain  the  rules  and 
methods  it  was  constitutionally  unfitted  to  receive.  Other 
studies  were  made  to  bend  before  it ;  favorite  pursuits  were 
sacrificed  to  this  one  object;  passionate  tears  had  washed 
the  distracting  figures  from  the  hated  slate ;  high  tragedy 
had  been  enacted  before  the  blackboard,  and  stormy  scenes 
in  the  study  had  only  strengthened  Miss  Crowen  in  her 
determination  to  enforce  obedience,  and  her  pupil  in 
resistance  to  what  she  looked  upon  as  tyrannical  injustice. 
The  result  of  this  continued  struggle  was,  that  after  nearly 
five  years  of  drilling  in  that  branch  of  study,  to  the  exclu 
sion  of  more  congenial  pursuits,  I  left  St.  Catharine's  with 
about  the  amount  of  mathematical  knowledge  usually 
acquired  by  girls  of  ordinary  application  in  a  year  and  a 
half.  I  was  too  fresh,  however,  from  such  exercises,  not  to 
be  quite  competent  to  master  the  difficulties  presented  iu 
the  Rutledge  "  Household  Expenses,"  and  before  an  hour 
had  passed,  had  reduced  the  "  snarl "  to  a  very  compre 
hensible  state,  and  calling  to  Mrs.  Roberts  to  come  and  look 
•over  it,  I  began  to  explain  the  errors  I  had  found,  and  the 


114  BUTLEDGE. 

manner  in  which  I  had  corrected  them,  in  as  lucid  language 
as  I  could  command. 

But  Mrs.  Roberta  was  hopelessly  obtuse  ;  she  put  on  her 
glasses  and  fumbled  among  the  loose  papers  on  which 
Dorothy  registered  her  financial  transactions,  with  agonizing 
bewilderment.  In  vain  I  assured  her  I  had  copied  them  oft' 
on  the  book,  and  they  would  give  her  no  light  on  the  sub 
ject  ;  she  could  not  give  them  up,  and  again  and  again 
looked  them  over,  and  bemoaned  Dorothy's  inaccuracy  and 
her  own  stupidity.  She  hoped  I  would  excuse  her,  but  she 
could  not  really  get  her  mind  quite  clear  about  that  last 
column ;  would  it  be  asking  too  much  of  me  to  run  it  over 
again  aloud.  I  tried  to  be  patient,  and  again  went  over  it, 
and  explained  the  case  in  all  its  bearings.  I  resolutely  kept 
my  back  to  the  window,  and  would,  if  I  could,  have  for 
gotten  that  there  was  such  a  thing  as  sunshine  in  the  world ; 
but,  however  I  may  have  succeeded  in  that  attempt,  I  could 
not  help  hearing  Mr.  Rutledge's  step  on  the  stone  walk  out 
side,  as  he  returned  from  the  direction  of  the  stables ;  nor 
could  I  help  being  aware  that  he  entered  the  house,  paused 
a  moment  in  the  library,  then  came  upstairs.  The  fragrance 
of  an  Havana  penetrating  the  keyhole,  told  he  had  passed 
this  door,  and  gone  into  his  dressing-room.  My  Angers  flew 
over  the  columns  ;  in  proportion  as  my  patience  diminished 
Mrs.  Roberts'  dullness  increased  ;  she  fretted,  she  groaned, 
she  bewildered  me  with  questions,  and  almost  crying  with 
vexation,  I  exclaimed,  as  I  heard  the  horses  coming  up  from 
the  stable : 

"  Oh,  Mrs.  Roberts !  Won't  you  please  understand ! 
Can't  you  see  the  only  mistake  was  in  that  second  figure, 
and  that  I've  put  it  all  right  ?  Can't  you  see  it  balances  ?" 

But  Mrs.  Roberts  couldn't  see,  and  her  obtusenesa 
redoubled,  as  Mr.  Rutledge's  door  opened  and  closed  again, 
and  his  steps  echoed  down  the  staircase  and  a/ross  the  hall. 
I  could  not  help  leaning  back,  and  glancing  out  of  the 
window,  while  tears  of  disappointment  and  vexation  rushed 


BUT  LEDGE.  115 

to  my  eyes,  as  I  saw  Mr.  Kutledge  drive  off  with  Michael 
in  the  light  waggon,  and  the  identical  pair  of  last  trotters 
that  I  had  made  admiring  acquaintance  with  a  few  days 
since  at  the  stable.  As  their  hoofs  clattered  rapidly  down 
the  avenue,  I  could  have  thrown  the  account-books  at 
Mrs.  Roberts'  head,  for  in  truth  it  began  to  dawn  upon  me 
that  that  worthy  person  had  had  some  ends  of  her  own  to 
serve  in  keeping  me  so  long  at  the  work  of  elucidation,  and 
that  something  besides  natural  dullness  of  comprehension 
had  been  in  the  way  of  her  understanding  my  calculations. 
I  began  to  reflect  on  the  absurdity  of  supposing  that  a 
woman  who  had  for  years  had  the  charge  of  such  an  estab 
lishment  as  Rutledge,  could  be  in  reality  so  dull  and 
ignorant  as  she  had  appeared  this  morning.  There  could 
be  no  doubt  but  that  she  had  intended  to  keep  me  in  the 
house ;  for  what  cause,  I  could  not  yet  determine. 

The  mists  that  had  obscured  her  intellect,  began  now, 
however,  to  clear  away ;  and  it  was  not  long  before  she 
pronounced  herself  quite  satisfied  on  all  points,  even  on  the 
vexed  and  tortured  question  of  that  "  last  column,"  and  I 
was  released  from  my  task.  I  did  not  doubt  the  sincerity 
of  Mrs.  Roberts'  rather  meagre  thanks,  nor  the  truthfulness 
of  her  slight  commendation  of  my  patience.  It  was  not  in 
her  way  to  flatter,  and  I  knew  that  for  some  cause  she  dis 
trusted  me,  and  that  whatever  praise  she  awarded  me,  was 
fairly  wrung  from  her  by  her  stubborn  sense  of  justice. 
Though  I  knew  Mrs.  Roberts  had  been  generalling  this 
morning,  there  was  that  about  her  that  forbade  my  doubt 
ing  her  habitual  truthfulness.  I  merely  replied  that  she  was 
welcome  to  the  assistance  I  had  been  able  to  give  her,  and 
with  a  weary  step  I  left  the  room. 

At  the  door  I  found  Tigre  waiting  for  me  with  wistftu 
earnestness  in  his  erected  ears  and  attentive  eyes.  I  took 
him  in  my  arms,  and  carried  him  into  my  own  room,  where 
I  tried  to  enter  with  spirit  into  the  frolic  he  seemed  to 
desire.  But  it  proved  a  miserable  failure;  I  could  not 


116  K  U  T  L  E  D  G  E  . 

enjoy  that  or  any  thing  else ;  my  head  ached  "  splittingly/ 
and  the  sunshine  streaming  in  at  the  window  made  it 
worse,  and  playing  with  Tigre  made  it  worse,  and  reading, 
writing,  thinking,  all  made  it  worse.  "What  should  I  do 't 
I  hadn't  even  the  spirit  to  go  out  into  the  fresh  air ;  but, 
leaning  Avearily  on  the  dressing-table,  counted  the  heads  on 
my  bracelet,  and  wondered  that  I  could  have  been  so  happy 
this  morning.  . 

By  and  by,  I  summoned  sufficient  energy  to  smooth  my 
hair,  and  bathe  my  head  with  eau  de  Cologne  ;  then,  calling 
Tigre,  I  concluded  to  go  to  the  library  for  a  book.  I  found 
that  apartment  rather  more  endurable  than  my  own  just 
then,  as  the  sun  did  not  come  in  there  at  that  hour  of  the 
morning,  and  the  light  was  very  subdued,  and  the  room 
was  quietness  itself;  so,  taking  a  book  from  the  table,  I 
arranged  the  cushions  of  the  sofa  alluringly,  and  motioning 
Tigre  to  his  place  beside  me,  sat  down  to  reading.  It  Avould 
have  been  a  thrilling  book  that  could  have  riveted  my  wan 
dering  thoughts  that  morning ;  and  unluckily  the  book  I  had 
chosen  was  very  far  from  that  stamp ;  it  was  a  third-rate 
novel  of  the  highly  wrought  order,  into  whose  pages  cha 
racters,  incidents,  scenes,  were  crowded  in  such  bewilder 
ing  profusion,  that  one's  appreciative  powers  were  fagged 
out  and  exhausted,  before  the  first  chapter  was  accom 
plished,  and,  like  a  restaurant  dinner,  where  all  the  dishes 
taste  alike,  there  was  but  one  flavor  to  the  whole  array  of 
dramatis  persona?  from  heroine  to  Mte  noire j  but  "one 
gravy  "  for  roast,  bouilli,  and  ragout.  The  wearying  tide 
of  adjectives  and  interjections  stunned  my  senses ;  the  book 
slipped  from  my  hands,  and,  leaning  my  head  on  the  cush 
ions,  my  eyes  closed,  and  with  OUQ  arm  round  Tigre  and  the 
other  under  my  head,  I  slept,  realizing  even  in  sleep  that 
the  bracelet  touched  my  cheek. 

The  precise  duration  of  my  nap  I  could  not  tell;  but 
when  I  awoke,  it  was  to  find  Mr.  Rutledge  standing  by 
me.  I  started  up,  and  he  said : 


BUT  LEDGE 


iir 


•*  I  meant  to  be  angry,  but  you  look  so  pale  and  tired  1 
think  you  are  punished  enough  already.  Does  your  head 
ache  still  ?"  he  continued,  laying  his  hand  on  nay  shoulder. 
"  You  would  have  done  better  to  have  followed  my  advice. 
I  knew  you  would  repent." 

"  I  don't  repent,  though,"  I  said,  quite  decidedly.  "  I 
haven't  even  thought  of  repenting,  and  would  do  it  all  over 
again,  if  the  same  circumstances  occurred." 

"  You  begin  to  relent  toward  Mrs.  Roberts,  then,"  he 
said,  coolly.  "  I  thought  yesterday  you  didn't  particularly 
affect  my  worthy  housekeeper." 

"  My  liking  or  disliking  her  doesn't  alter  the  question  of 
my  duty.  And,  Mr.  Rutledge,  I  don't  think  it's  kind  in 
you  to  pretend  not  to  understand  my  motive.  You  must 
know  that  in  all  reason,  I  could  not  prefer  staying  worrying 
in  the  house  over  some  tiresome  accounts,  to  going  out  on 
such  a  splendid  day  ;  and  you  must  see  that  there  was  no  way 
for  me  to  refuse  her  conscientiously.  You  yourself  say  she  is 
old,  and  particular,  and  fixed  in  her  ways ;  and  I  am  certain 
you  often  put  yourself  out  to  humor  her ;  how  can  you 
blame  me  for  not  leaving  her  to  fret  and  worry  over  some 
thing  that  I  could  do  for  her  in  half  the  time  ?" 

Mr.  Rutledge  looked  down  at  me,  but  said  nothing, 
while  I  briefly  concluded  my  defence,  adding  at  the  end,  a 
concise  request  that  he'd  please  not  say  anything  more 
about  the  matter. 

"  We  will  consider  it  amicably  adjusted,  then,"  he  said, 
*•  and  direct  our  attention  to  something  else.  What,  for 
instance,  do  you  propose  doing  with  yourself  this  afternoon  ?" 

"  I  haven't  thought  anything  about  it.  Take  a  walk, 
perhaps." 

"  You  are  so  fond  of  being  useful,"  he  said,  rather  wick 
edly,  "  would  you  like  to  go  down  to  the  village  for  the 
letters  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  should  like  it  very  well,  only  I  don't  know  the 
way  exactly ;  but  I  suppose  I  can  inquire." 


118  RUTLEDGE. 

"  Will  you  ride  or  walk  ?  Michael  can  drive  you  down, 
or  Kitty  can  walk  with  you." 

"  I  think  I'll  walk,  if  it  makes  no  difference,"  I  said, 
indifferently. 

"  I  suppose,"  said  Mr.  Rutledge,  "  you  don't  like  riding 
on  horseback  ?" 

Like  it !  There  was  no  need  to  answer ;  my  face  told 
fully  my  enthusiastic  preference  for  that  mode  of  travel. 

"  I  do  not  know  if  there  is  any  horse  in  the  stable  that  1 
would  venture  to  let  you  ride.  Madge  I  am  afraid  of, 
How  long  since  you've  ridden  ?" 

"  Not  since  I've  been  away  at  school ;  but  I'm  not  a  bit 
afraid.  I  used  to  ride  constantly  at  home.  I  had  the 
dearest  little  pony  ;  but  he  was  spirited  enough,  and  I 
always  managed  him.  I  don't  really  think  you  need  be 
afraid  to  trust  me,"  I  went  on,  pleadingly. 

Mr.  Rutledge  shook  his  head ;  Madge  was  only  fit  foi  an 
experienced  rider ;  she  was  too  full  of  spirit  for  such  a 
child  to  manage.  Now,  Madge  had  been  my  secret  admi 
ration  ever  since  I  had  had  the  entree  of  the  stables,  and  I 
felt  that  life  offered,  at  that  moment,  no  more  tempting 
honor  than  a  seat  on  her  back ;  and  it  may  be  supposed  I 
was  not  lukewarm  in  my  pleading.  I  urged,  coaxed, 
entreated ;  I  appealed  to  his  generosity,  I  promised  ever 
lasting  gratitude. 

"  Dear  Mr.  Rutledge,"  I  cried,  "  you  know  I  go  at  my 
own  risk ;  it  will  be  my  own  fault  if  anything  happens  to 
me.  And  oh !  it  will  be  so  unkind  if  you  refuse  me  the 
very  first  favor  I  ever  asked  of  you !" 

I  am  not  sure  about  the  tears  at  this  point  of  the  petition, 
though  I  was  quite  in  earnest  enough  to  have  cried,  and  I 
had  begun  to  appreciate  the  availability  of  tears  aa  a  weapon 
sufficiently  to  have  used  them  if  they  had  occurred.  Cer 
tain  it  is,  however,  that  Mr.  Rutledge  began  to  relent,  and 
at  last,  though  evidently  much  against  his  better  judgment, 
gave  the  desired  permission. 


BUT  LEDGE.  119 

*'  But  remember,  I  don't  approve  it." 

"  Oh !  but  you  will,"  I  exclaimed,  "  when  you  see  how 
quiet  she'll  be  with  me  !" 

"  And  you  have  no'  habit,"  he  continued. 

"  I'll  manage  that.  Kitty's  a  host  in  herself;  I'll  press 
her  into  the  service." 

My  companion  half  sighed  as  I  flew  out  of  the  room  and 
upstairs,  where,  in  two  minutes'  tune,  I  was  deep  in  consul 
tation  with  Kitty  on  the  subject  of  the  habit.  She  entered 
into  the  plan  with  great  ardor,  and  racked  her  brains  to 
devise  something  feasible.  I  sat  on  the  bed  and  waited 
breathlessly  for  the  bright  thought  that  I  was  sure  would 
come,  sooner  or  later,  to  Kitty's  clever  brain. 

"You  say  you  have  a  jacket  that  will  do,"  she  said,  medi 
tatively. 

"  Yes,  the  very  thing — black  cloth,  trimmed  with  buttoui 
and  all  that ;  and  now,  if  I  only  had  a  long  enough  skirt. 
Oh,  Kitty !  can't  you  think  of  something  ?" 

Kitty  knit  her  brows,  and,  after  a  moment,  said,  thought 
fully  : 

"  There's  a  whole  piece  of  black  bombazine,  that  was  left 
over  from  the  last  funeral,  upstairs  in  a  trunk  I  know  of. 
Sylvie  and  I  could  run  up  the  breadths  in  no  time.  Would 
you  mind  ?" 

"  Oh,  Kitty  !  I  couldn't  quite  stand  that !"  I  exclaimed, 
between  a  shudder  and  a  laugh.  "  Can't  you  think  of  any 
thing  else  ?" 

"  I  have  it !"  cried  aJKe,  with  a  sudden  illumination  of 
countenance.  "  I  have  it !" 

"  What !— how  ?     Oh,  do  tell  me !» 

"  Why,"  said  my  artful  maid,  with  mischief  in  every  lint 
of  her  bright  face,  "  why,  Mrs.  Roberts,  by  way  of  keeping 
me  busy  this  morning,  gave  me  her  best  bombazine  dress  tc 
rub  off  and  press  out,  and  it's  downstairs  this  minute ;  and 
you  see,  she  always  has  a  wide  hem  to  her  dresses,  and  a 
great  piece  turned  in  at  the  top  ;  so  by  letting  out  ull  this, 


120  KUTLKDGE. 

and  putting  on  a  piece  around  the  waist,  where  it'll  come 
under  the  basque,  it  will  make  you  the  very  nicest  riding- 
skirt  in  the  world."  And  Kitty's  eyes  danced. 

"Capital!"  I  cried.  "But  then,  Kitty,  I'm  afraid  it 
wouldn't  be  right ;  I'm  afraid  " 

"  Don't  disturb  yourself,  Miss ;  it'll  be  ready  before  you 
want  it,"  and  my  conscientious  scruples  were  cut  short  by 
the  abrupt  exit  of  my  maid,  who  was  out  of  hearing  before 
I  could  remonstrate. 

The  dinner-bell  rang  at  the  same  moment,  and  I  ran  down 
at  the  summons,  too  much  excited,  and  too  nervous,  how 
ever,  to  do  more  than  go  through  the  ceremony  of  a  meal. 
Mr.  Rutledge  was  rather  thoughtful ;  he  called  me  a  foolish 
child  for  being  so  much  excited  about  such  a  trifling  affair. 
As  I  rose  to  leave  the  table,  he  asked  me  if  I  had  succeeded 
in  improvising  a  habit.  I  said  yes,  and  that  my  present  per 
plexity  lay  only  in  the  matter  of  a  hat.  He  proposed  to  see 
if  he  ^  aid  help  me,  by  a  review  of  his  chapeaux,  past  and 
present ;  and  after  trying  on  at  least  a  dozen  caps  and  hats, 
beaver,  straw,  cjpth,  and  velvet,  I  decided  upon  a  little 
black  jockey  cap,  that  was  the  trimmest,  nattiest  thing  im 
aginable,  and  I  knew,  from  Mr.  Rutledge's  approving 
glance,  vastly  becoming.  So  I  bounded  off  to  my  room, 
to  submit  myself  to  Kitty's  hands  for  the  next  twenty  mi 
nutes. 

Very  pretty,  she  assured  me,  I  looked,  as,  the  last  touch 
bestowed,  she  stepped  back  to  take  a  survey  of  me. 

"  So  slim  and  elegant,  Miss,  in  your  black  clothes,  and 
that  jaunty  little  cap,  and  your  hair  so  smooth  and  tight  to 
your  head ;  nothing  in  the  way,  nothing  flying,"  said  Kitty, 
with  a  gesture  signifying  her  aversion  to  the  decorated  style 
of  equestrian  costume,  so  popular  with  our  contemporaries. 
"  And  that  skirt !"  she  exclaimed,  smothering  her  laughter, 
"  who  would  think  it  was  the  very  one  Mrs.  Roberts  had 
on,  day  before  yesterday,  when  she  was  all  dressed  to  go 
to  the  Parsonage  !  Wouldn't  her  hair  stand  on  end,  Miss, 


&STTLKDGK,  1^1 

if  she  could  see  it  trailing  along  the  floor !  The  precious 
dress  she  always  takes  off  before  she'll  go  down  to  the  kit 
chen,  even  to  give  an  order !" 

"  Oh,  I'm  really  sorry,  Kitty !  Indeed,  I've  a  great  mind 
not  to  wear  it." 

"  Why,  Miss,"  she  said,  in  alarm,  "  don't  think  anything 
about  it.  It  won't  hurt  it  a  bit ;  I'll  have  it  just  as  good 
as  when  she  gave  it  to  me,  if  I  sit  up  half  the  night  to  fix 
it!" 

And  Kitty  buttoned  my  boots  with  great  empressement, 
and  as  Madge's  hoofs  struck  on  the  stone  walk  belcw,  she 
hurried  me  off,  thrusting  my  gloves  and  handkerchief  into 
my  hand,  and  wishing  me  a  very  nice  time. 


CHAPTER  IX.. 

"  Thy  steps  are  dancing  toward  the  bound 

Between  the  child  and  woman, 
And  thoughts  and  feelings  more  profound, 
And  other  years  are  coming." 

SIDNEY  WALKEK. 

IF  I  say  that  my  heart  beat  a  little  quicker,  as  I  came  in 
sight  of  the  group  before  the  steps,  I  shall  acknowledge  to 
no .  inexcusable  weakness.  Mrs.  Roberts  stood  a  little  at 
one  side,  with  a  darker,  more  gloomily  prophetical  cast  of 
countenance  than  ever,  and  seemed  to  be  giving  some  un 
welcome  advice  to  Mr.  Rutledge,  who,  saying  briefly,  "  I 
cannot  disappoint  her  now,"  turned  uneasily  to  Michael,  who 
held  the  horses,  and  who  was  to  accompany  me,  and  ap 
peared  to  give  him  some  emphatic  directions,  to  which  the 
man,  from  time  to  time,  nodded  assent. 

And  the  mare  herself!  Michael's  whole  strength  was 
but  suflicient  to  control  her  under  the  unaccustomed  re 
straint.  She  was  a  beautiful  animal,  glossy  black,  clean 
limbed,  and  delicately  made,  with  a  head  and  neck  that  told 
"  she  came  of  gentle  blood,"  as  plainly  as  aristocratic  linea 
ments  ever  spoke.  The  insane  absurdity  of  my  controlling 
such  a  fiery,  powerful  thing  as  she,  rushed  sickcningiy  over 
me,  but  I  never  for  a  moment  entertained  the  idea  of  giving 
up.  If  I  had  been  ten  times  surer  than  I  was,  that  I  should 
be  thrown  within  the  first  half  mile,  I  should  have  rejected 
with  scorn  the  advice  of  Mrs.  Roberts,  who  now  came  for 
ward  and  favored  me  with  her  views  on  the  subject  of  the 
proposed  expedition.  I  had  more  than  one  reason  for  de 
siring  to  keep  her  at  a  distance  ;  so  raising  my  skirt  as  care 
fully  as  I  could,  I  ran  down  the  steps  to  where  Mr  Rut- 


RETLEDGE.  123 

ledge  stood.  When  he  saw  me,  he  immediately  cleared  his 
brow  of  the  shade  of  anxiety  that  had  been  contracting  it 
.durmg  his  conversation  with  Michael,  and  said,  smilingly : 

"  Madge  Wildfire  is  as  impatient  to  be  off  as  her  mis 
tress." 

"  Pretty  creature  !"  I  said,  patting  her  neck  with  a  hand 
that  trembled  visibly  ;  then,  with  a  voice  that  was  meant  to 
be  very  cheerful  and  unconcerned,  I  added : 

"  What  a  perfect  afternoon  it  is !  I  wish  you  were 
going." 

"  I  wish  I  were,"  he  said,  taking  in  at  a  glance  the  un 
steadiness  of  the  hand  that  patted  Madge's  neck,  and  the 
direful  whiteness  of  the  lips  that  spoke.  After  a  moment 
of  reflection  he  turned  to  Michael  and  gave  him  some  order 
that  sent  him  rapidly  toward  the  stable,  while  Thomas  waa 
summoned  to  hold  the  horses,  and  telling  me  to  wait  a 
moment,  Mr.  Rutledge  hurried  into  the  house.  I  did  not 
rightly  comprehend  the  reason  of  this  delay,  till  I  saw  him 
reappear,  with  riding  gloves  on  and  a  whip  in  his  hand  fol 
lowed  by  Mrs.  Roberts,  whose  astonishment  and  anxiety 
were  undisguised. 

"  It's  madness  sir  !  With  one  hand  you  can  hardly  guide 
your  own  horse,  let  alone  that  creature  she's  to  ride  ;  and 
if  you'll  forgive  me  for  being  so  plain,  you  may  have  to  pay 
dearly  for  it !  You  are  humoring  a  foolish  girl  at  the  risk 
of  your  life !" 

Mr.  Rutledge  stopped  short,  "  My  old  friend,"  he  said 
in  a  tone  of  decision,  "  you  know  I  will  always  bear  with 
more  from  you,  than  from  almost  any  one  else ;  but  you 
must  remember,  there  is  such  a  thing  as  going  too  far.  I 
cannot  be  interfered  with  in  this  way,  even  by  you,"  and 
he  descended  the  steps. 

Mrs.  Roberts  groaned,  and  turned  away,  silenced  tem 
porarily.  Michael  reappeared  with  Mr.  Rutledge's  horse, 
Madge  was  soothed,  and  brought  to  where  I  stood,  and 
Michael  tossed  me  ^  on  her  back.  Before  I  could  realize 


124  RUT  LEDGE- 

the  dizzy  height,  or  get  the  reins  fairly  in  my  grasp,  die 
•was  off  with  an  eager  bound  that  showed  how  great  had 
been  her  impatience  at  the  delay.  I  kept  my  seat — more  I 
did  not  attempt  to  do,  as  at  a  tearing  pace  she  darted 
down  the  avenue,  The  reins  were  in  my  hands,  but 
they  might  as  well  have  been  around  her  neck,  for  all 
the  use  I  made  of  them.  Fortunately  the  gate  was 
open,  but  before  we  reached  it  Mr.  Rutledge  was  by  my 
side. 

"  To  the  left,"  he  said,  as  we  dashed  through  it.  It  was, 
however,  because  Madge's  fancy  lay  that  way,  that  she 
took  it ;  I  cannot  flatter  myself  that  my  faintly  suggestive 
touch  on  the  left  rein  had  anything  to  do  with  influencing 
her  decision.  And  on  we  flew,  Michael  clattering  behind 
us.  It  was  a  pretty  clear  straight  road,  bordered  on  both 
sides  by  trees,  and  slightly  descending  ground.  In  a 
moment,  Mr.  Rutledge  spoke,  but  so  quietly  and  unexcit- 
edly  that  I  felt  soothed  even  by  the  tone. 

'.'  You  sit  very  well ;  don't  lean  forward  quite  so  much  ; 
that's  better,"  and  in  a  few  minutes  he  added,  "  keep  a 
steady  rein,  don't  pull  suddenly  or  hard,  but  just  firm. 
She  is  perfectly  kind,  and  you  can  manage  her  very  nicely 
after  you  get  used  to  her." 

A  confidence  in  Madge's  good  disposition,  certainly  was 
encouraging,  and  as  Mr.  Rutledge  didn't  seem  to  feel  any 
alarm  or  discomposure  of  any  kind,  but  on  the  contrary,  an 
assurance  that  I  was  equal  to  what  I  had  undertaken,  per 
haps,  after  all  I  was ;  and  under  these  influences,  something 
like  composure  began  to  return  to  my  startled  nerves  and 
something  like  strength  to  tighten  my  hold  upon  the  reins. 
Still  we  were  tearing  onward,  Michael  now  left  far  behind, 
and  the  question  of  stopping  began  to  exercise  me  pain 
fully.  I  knew  from  the  pull  upon  the  bridle,  and  the  eager 
bounds  of  the  animal  beneath  me,  that  as  yet,  it  formed  no 
part  of  her  intention.  Presently  Mr.  Rutledge  said,  quite 
nonchalantly — 


SUTLEDGE.  125 

*'  I  think,  when  we  begin  to  ascend  that  hill  on  our  right, 
we'd  better  pull  up  a  little.  Keep  a  steady  rein  till  we  get 
there.  Let  Madge  know  who's  mistress  ;  the  lower  one's 
the  curb ;  now,  pull;  whoa,  Madge  !" 

And  Madge  did  whoa,  that  is,  she  slackened  in  a  slight, 
a  very  slight  degree,  her  frantic  pace,  checked  perhaps  by 
the  new  determination  of  her  rider's  rein,  and  the  startling 
emphasis  of  that  decided  "  whoa." 

It  was  but  a  very  slight  symptom  of  irresolution  on  her 
part,  but  it  gave  me  the  advantage ;  from  that  moment  I 
determined  to  be  mistress,  and  before  we  reached  the  brow 
of  the  hill,  Madge  had  quieted  to  a  walk.  I  was  as  white 
as  a  ghost,  and  shook  all  over,  but  my  companion  was  con 
siderate  enough  not  to  notice  it,  and  checked  with  a  look, 
Michael's  exclamations  of  alarm,  as  with  open  eyes  and 
mouth,  that  attendant  galloped  up. 

Several  miles  of  country  had  been  got  over,  before  I  be 
gan,  in  any  degree,  to  realize  that  I  was  out  for  the  pur 
pose  of  enjoying  myself,  or  before  I  was  able  to  think  of 
anything  in  heaven  or  earth,  save  the  beast  I  rode. 

At  last,  however,  I  began  to  feel,  with  a  sense  of  exulta 
tion  the  more  elating  in  proportion  to  the  struggle  I  had 
had  to  gain  it,  that  I  had  my  horse  under  entire  control, 
and  with  that  consciousness,  color  came  to  my  cheeks,  and 
warmth  to  my  numb  hands  and  feet ;  I  could  laugh  and 
talk  then,  could  see  that  the  sky  was  clear  and  sunny,  and 
the  country  we  were  crossing,  the  very  prettiest  and  most 
picturesque  imaginable  ;  could  feel  the  wind  blowing  fresh 
against  my  face,  as  we  galloped  rapidly  over  the  open  road; 
or  listen,  with  an  ear  keenly  awake  to  every  phase  of 
pleasure,  to  the  rustling  of  the  dead  leaves  beneath  our 
horses'  feet,  and  the  clear  ringing  of  our  voices  in  the  still 
air,  as  we  sauntered  along  woody  passes,  or  threaded  ouj 
way  through  unfrequented  bridle-paths. 

"  How  delightful  it  is !"  I  exclaimed,  and  my  exclama 
tion  was  echoed  in  my  companion'?  look  of  intense  enjoy 


126  BUTLEDGE. 

ment.  There  was  a  freedom  from  restraint,  an  abandon 
ment  to  the  pleasures  of  the  present,  that  I  had  not  seen  iii 
him  before.  Ten  years  of  care  and  trial  seemed  lifted  from 
his  brow ;  a  glow  of  health  on  his  face,  and  a  clear  light  in 
his  eye,  made  him  almost  handsome ;  and  for  the  time,  it 
was  easy  for  me  to  forget  the  differences  of  age  and  circum 
stances  ;  it  was  an  involuntary  thing  to  look  upon  him  as 
the  companion  whom  most  I  liked  of  all  I  had  ever  found ; 
the  readiest,  the  keenest,  the  kindest ;  one  who  understood 
me,  himself,  and  all  the  world ;  who  could  govern  me,  but 
whose  very  tyranny  was  pleasant ;  who  was,  in  fact,  so  far 
and  unquestionably  my  superior,  that  it  pleased  him  to  lay 
aside  all  differences,  and  be,  for  the  time,  the  companion 
and  equal  of  a  child,  whose  very  youth  and  ignorance, 
appeared  the  passports  to  his  favor. 

For  the  first  time,  during  this  ride  he  talked  to  me  of 
himself,  and  of  his  past  life,  but  a  past  far  separated  from  all 
association  or  connection  with  Rutledge.  He  recounted, 
for  my  entertainment,  travels  and  adventures,  that  had  the 
most  exciting  charm  to  my  crude  esr,  at  least.  And  indeed 
I  doubt  whether  an  older  and  more  critical  taste  could  havu 
found'  anything  but  pleasure  in  his  vigorous  sketches  of 
scenes  and  incidents  that  had  impressed  themselves  upon 
his  memory.  He  was,  indeed,  an  excellent  raconteur,  and 
had,  beyond  any  one  I  have  evor  known,  the  power  of 
bringing  up,  in  bodily  shape  and  presence,  the  places  and 
characters  he  chose  to  recall.  Whether  it  was  a  sunrise 
among  the  Alps,  or  a  scene  in  a  French  cafe,  it  was  equally 
distinct  and  life-like ;  I  saw  the  glittering  of  the  sharp  cloud 
piercing  icy  peaks,  as,  one  by  one,  they  caught  the  rosy 
sunlight ;  or,  the  men  and  women  in  their  foreign  dress  and 
eager  manner,  lived  and  spoke  before  me,  gesticulated, 
rattled  off  their  voluble  absurdities,  and  vanished  from  the 
scene,  to  give  place  to  pictures  of  quiet  English  villages, 
with  sunny  meadows  and  long  green  lanes,  grey  churches 
and  moss;y  gravestones,  or  quaint  old  Flemish  towns,  with 


RUTLBDGE.  127 

their  "  cathedrals  vast  and  dim,"  and  tall,  gloomy  housea 
overhanging  the  narrow  streets ;  or  the  rich  warmth  of 
some  Italian  landscape ;  or  the  vastuess  of  the  illimitable 
plains  of  Granada,  that  stretch  away  on  all  sides  from  the 
ruined  Alhambra  ;  Constantinople,  with  its  mosques  and 
minarets ;  the  Holy  City,  with  its  mongrel  population  and 
half  profaned  associations,  all  were  distinctly  realized  by 
me,  as  if  I  had  hi  very  deed  been  there.  Mr.  Rutledge 
rarely  exercised  his  talents  for  description,  and  my  enrap 
tured  attention  seemed  to  surprise  him. 

"  You  are  an  admirable  listener,"  he  said,  laughingly  j 
"  no  flattery  could  be  subtler  than  that  attitude  of  interest. 
I  should  grow  positively  garrulous  if  you  were  with  me 
much.  I  must  send  you  away !  I  hate  a  talking  man ; 
with  such  an  eloquent  face  before  me,  I  shall  learn  to  talk 
hours  at  a  time." 

"  I  won't  look  at  you  if  you  don't  want  me  to,  only  don't 
stop  talking.  Ah !  please  !"  I  exclaimed,  as  he  pointed  to 
the  rapidly  sinking  sun,  and  turned  his  horse's  head  toward 
home.  "  I  cannot  go  home  yet." 

"  But  it  will  be  dark  before  we  reach  it,  as  it  is,"  he 
said. 

"  There's  a  moon !" 

"  I  shall  never  let  you  come  again,  if  you  are  not '  good ' 
about  going  home.  Come !" 

His  tone  wasn't  alarming,  and  I  said :  "  I've  just  got  in 
the  spirit  of  it ;  and  that's  the  best  piece  of  road  we've 
seen  yet.  I  couldn't  think  of  going  back  under  another 
mile ;  indeed  I  couldn't." 

Mr.  Rutledge  still  persisted  in  refusing  permission, 
though,  as  I  said,  his  tone  was  not  alarming  ;  not,  for 
instance,  as  it  had  been  last  evening,  when  he  called  me  in 
'from  the  terrace.  Though  his  faco  was  perfectly  serious, 
there  was  a  look  of  smothered  merriment  about  his  mouth, 
that  quite  recalled  the  crayon  sketch  in  my  trunk.  He  was 
a  good  horseman,  and  no  attitude  could  have  been  mora 


128  KUTLEDGE. 

advantageous  to  him  than  his  present  one,  sitting  easily  and 
gracefully  on  his  fine  horse,  and  indicating  with  a  turn  of 
his  head,  the  direction  which  he  desired,  nay,  commanded 
me  to  take.  We  were  just  on  the  summit  of  a  hill ;  the 
sunset  was  lighting  up  the  woods  behind,  the  road  stretched 
smooth  and  broad  before  us.  I  turned  my  head  as  decid 
edly  in  that  direction,  saying : 

"  There's  another  road  turns  off  to  the  left  of  that  bridge 
toward  Rutledge,  I  know,  for  we  drove  there  the  other 
day ;  and  it  isn't  more  than  two  miles  further.  That's 
the  way  I'm  going  home.  *  They'll  have  fleet  steeds  that 
follow.' " 

And,  touching  Madge,  I  was  off,  without  a  look  behind. 
It  was,  indeed  some  minutes  before  I  turned  around  to  see 
how  near  Mr.  Rutledge  might  be ;  but  what  was  my  chagrin 
on  finding  myself  alone,  Michael  only  visible  descending 
the  hill  at  full  speed.  I  paused  to  wait  for  him  with  ill- 
concealed  impatience. 

"  Where's  your  master,  Michael  ?" 

"  Gone  back,  miss." 

"  Are  you  sure  ?" 

"  Yes,  miss.  I  think  he's  going  home  by  way  of  the 
village,  and  that  he's  going  to  get  the  letters  from  the  office 
on  his  way." 

"  Couldn't  we  overtake  him  possiby  ?" 

•"  I'm  afraid  not,  miss ;  we've  got  two  miles  further  to 
go,  and  the  horses  are  not  as  fresh  as  when  we  started, 
miss." 

That  was  a  very  palpable  fact ;  indeed,  both  Michael's 
arguments  seemed  equally  invincible ;  but  I  evaded  them 
by  exclaiming : 

"  Isn't  there  any  shorter  way  back  to  the  village  ?  Think 
quick,  Michael,  I  know  there  must  be." 

Michael  thought,  as  quickly  as  he  could,  no  doubt,  but 
very  slowly,  it  seemed  to  me. 

"Yes,  Miss,"  he    said,  meditatively,   after   a  moment's 


jfcUT  LEDGE.  129 

pause,  "  yes,  Miss,  there  is  another ;  but  it's  but  a  wild 
road  for  the  like  of  you  to  be  travelling — so  late 
too." 

"  Which  way  is  it  ?"  I  said,  with  an  impatient  wave  of 
the  hand. 

"  To  the  right,  Miss,  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  further  on  ; 
it  strikes  off  through  Hemlock  Hollow.  It's  a  lonesome 
road,  though,  Miss,  and.  there  may  be  one  or  two  pairs  of 
bars  to  take  down  before  we  get  to  the  end." 

"  You're  sure,  however,  that  you  know  the  way,  and1  that 
it's  shorter  ?"  I  asked. 

Michael  thought  he  was  sure. 

"  Then,  my  man,  we'll  try  it ;  and  keep  as  near  to  me  as 
you  can." 

And  turning  Madge's  head,  I  gave  her  liberty  to  do  her 
best.  Michael  had  much  ado,  I  fear,  to  keep  in  sight  of 
me  ;  but  I  cared  very  little  for  his  guardianship,  or  indeed 
for  any  other  circumstance  or  occurrence  whatsoever,  so 
long  as  I  reached  the  village  and  the  post-office  before  Mr. 
Rutledge  quitted  them. 

Michael  was  nearer  right  than  he  generally  had  the  good 
fortune  to  be,  when  he  described  the  Hemlock  Hollow  road 
as  a  wild  and  lonesome  one.  It  was  an  unfrequented  wood 
road ;  the  trees  met  above  it ;  there  was  neither  foot-path 
nor  fence  on  either  side ;  it  was  just  a  way  hewn  down  and 
cleared  for  one  wagon  to  pass.  Lying  in  a  hollow,  it  wag 
always  damper,  and  colder,  and  darker,  than  anywhere  else, 
and  as  I  pressed  on,  I  couldn't  help  being  struck  with  the 
chilliness  of  the  air,  and  "  the  rich  moist  smell  of  the  rotting 
leaves  "  that  lay  thick  upon  the  road.  How  fast  the  light 
had  faded  !  I  never  knew  twilight  to  come  on  so  rapidly. 

"  Never  mind,"  I  reasoned,  "  it  cannot  be  long  before  we 
are  out  of  this  hollow,  and  then  we  shall  be  so  near  the  vil 
lage  that  I  shall  not  mind  the  dark,  and  after  that  Mr. 
Rutledge  will  be  with  us.  He  will  not  be  angry,  I  know ; 
there  was  too  much  -laughing  about  his  mouth,  when  b» 

3* 


BUTLEDUE. 

motioned  me  homeward.  I  am  sure  he  won't  be  angry ; 
but  I  almost  wish Michael !" 

"  Yes,  Miss,"  called  out  my  attendant  in  the  distance. 

"  How  long  before  we  are  out  of  this  wood  ?" 

"  I  don't  rightly  remember  the  length  of  it,  Miss,"  gasped 
the  panting  esquire,  as  he  reached  me. 

"  Well,"  I  said,  "  its  growing  dark  so  fast,  you  must 
whip  up,  and  make  all  the  haste  you  can." 

"  Saving  your  presence,  that's  exactly  what  I've  been 
doing  for  the  last  three  hours ;  and  though  I'm  as  anxious 
to  get  on  as  yourself,  Miss,  my  horse  is  just  a  bit  ex 
hausted." 

I  had  to  suppress  a  laugh  at  his  dejected  looks.  Melan 
choly  had  marked  for  her  own  both  horse  and  rider. 

"  Well,  Michael,"  I  said,  encouragingly,  "  it  cannot  be 
very  long  before  we  reach  the  village,  and  then  you  shall 
have  time  to  rest.  Keep  up  as  well  as  you  can,  meantime." 

And  unable  to  control  my  own  impatience,  I  rode  on, 
and  in  a  little  while  was  again  out  of  sight,  or  rather  out 
of  hearing,  for  sight  was  fast  becoming  a  useless  gift,  so 
rapidly  had  night  descended,  and  so  effectually  did  the 
thick  trees  shut  out  what  of  light  might  have  been  still  left 
in  the  sky.  I  again  called  to  Michael,  who  again  was  far 
behind,  and  again  had  to  be  waited  for.  I  was  certain  we 
had  gone  three  or  four  miles,  and  yet  there  was  no  sign  of 
an  opening,  no  change  in  the  monotonous,  narrow  road. 

"  Are  you  quite  positive,  Michael,"  I  said,  "  that  this  is 
the  right  road  ?  Are  you  certain  it  leads  to  the  village  ?" 

He  had  never  been  over  it  but  once,  he  said,  and  that 
was  two  years  ago,  but  he  thought  he  knew  it;  it  didn't 
»eem  so  long  to  him  before,  though,  he  must  confess. 

A  genuine  pang  of  fear  crossed  me  as  I  saw  the  man's 
bewilderment  and  uncertainty,  and  as  I  realized  that  I  must 
depend  on  myself,  for  he  knew  no  more  about  the  road  than 
I  did,  it  was  plain,  and  seemed,  indeed,  fast  losing  his  wits, 
from  sheer  fatigue  and  terror. 


BUT  LEDGE.  131 

"  Think  a  minute,  Michael,"  I  said,  in  a  firm  voice,  "  how 
ought  the  road  to  terminate  ?  Does  it  come  directly  out 
>:n  the  turnpike,  or  do  we  have  to  cross  any  fields  before 
we  reach  it  ?" 

If  he  remembered  right,  there  was  a  field  to  cross— no — 
he  couldn't  be  sure,  on  the  whole,  that  the  road  didn't  open 
right  into  the  turnpike,  after  all.  Perhaps  it  didn't,  though  ; 
it  was  two  years  since  he  had  beeft  over  it,  and  how  could 
he  remember — so  dark  as  it  was,  too  ! 

A  moment's  reflection  told  me  that  there  was  no  use  in 
going  back  till  we  had  tried  a  little  further,  for  the  turn 
pike  could  not  be  very  distant.  I  thought  I  had  a  general 
idea  of  where  the  village  lay,  and  that  we  were  going  to 
ward  it.  So  cheering  up  my  attendant  as  well  as  I  could, 
and  suiting  my  pace  to  his,  I  endured  another  half  mile  of 
pretty  uncomfortable  suspense  before  an  opening  in  the 
trees,  and  a  patch  of  cloudy  sky,  sent  a  ray  of  comfort  to 
my  heart. 

"  Courage,  Michael !"  I  cried,  "  here's  the  end  of  our 
troubles — here's  an  opening  in  the  woods.  Is  this  the  way 
the  road  looked,  do  you  think  ?" 

Michael  sprang  down  from  his  horse  with  great  alacrity, 
to  let  down  the  bars  that  retarded  our  progress.  Ah,  yes ! 
This  was  all  right — just  as  he  said  ;  he  knew  we  had  to  cross 
a  field. 

Quite  reassured,  I  told  him  to  ride  on  in  front,  as  he 
seemed  to  know  the  way  now,  and  he  valiantly  led  on,  along 
the  edges  of  what  seemed  to  me  a  ploughed  field ;  but 
Michael  being  positive  that  there  was  a  beaten  road  along 
it,  I  submitted  to  his  judgment.  By  and  by,  we  came  to 
another  pair  of  bars,  which  Michael  confidently  took  down, 
and  conscientiously  put  up  after  we  had  passed  through, 
and  again  led  the  van. 

In  the  meantime,  I  watched  the  sky  with  anxiety.  The 
wind  was  rising,  and  «swept  cold  across  the  fields ;  the 
clouds,  though  broken  and  flying,  obscured  the  light  of  th« 


132  «  P  T  ~  £  D  G  E  , 

moon,  yet  low  in  the  east.  I  had  no  way  but  to  trust  to 
Michael,  aud  I  tried  to  do  it  without  any  misgivings,  as  he 
seemed  so  confident ;  but  it  was  not  long  before  he  began 
to  waver  again.  After  a  pause,  and  a  moment's  bewildered 
gaze  around,  he  struck  his  hand  upon  his  forehead,  and  ex 
claimed  : 

"  Upon  my  honor,  Miss,  it's  my  opinion  we're  in  a  dread 
ful  fix !  I  know  no  more  than  the  dead  where  we  are !" 

"  Fool !"  I  cried,  starting  forward  in  an  agony  of  appre 
hension,  "  why  didn't  you  say  so  before  ?" 

Michael  gave  a  miserable  groan,  and  seemed  utterly  con- 
iounded. 

"  Let  us  go  back  as  fast  as  ever  we  can !"  I  exclaimed. 

"  That's  just  what  I  can't  see  how  to  do,"  whined  my 
hopeful  guide,  "  for  between  letting  down,  and  putting  up 
bars,  and  crossing  backward  and  fcrward,  I  can't  seem  to 
to  remember  where  we  did  come  in." 

It  was  too  true  ;  the  place  we  had  entered  seemed  a  wild 
open  common,  fenced  on  two  sides,  while  on  the  others,  it 
stretched  away  into  woods  and  hills ;  but  since  we  had 
entered  it,  we  had  ridden  so  irregularly,  that  I  was,  as  well 
as  Michael,  at  a  loss  to  tell  on  whl  _  side  we  had  come  in, 
and  if  there  was  a  wagon  track,  it  was  too  dark  to  see  it. 
1  made  a  strong  effort  to  command  myself,  and  said  con 
cisely,  "  The  best  way,  Michael,  is  for  me  to  ride  along  the 
fence  here,  and  see  if  I  can't  find  something  that  will  direct 
me  to  the  place  where  we  came  in,  while  you  ride  across 
the  fields,  there,  or.  the  left,  and  see  if  you  can't  find  a 
road  through  the  woods,  and  come  back  as  soon  as  you've 
found  any,  and  tell  me." 

Michael  obeyed,  and  spurred  off  toward  the  woods,  while 
I  picked  my  way  back  along  the  irregular  fence,  which  in 
some  places  was  quite  hidden  by  the  high  bushes,  that 
grew  thick  on  either  side,  while  m  others,  it  was  quite 
open  and  unobscured.  But  the  uncertain  light,  the  simi 
larity  of  one  pair  of  bars,  and  one  side  of  the  cominoc  i* 


«  U  T  I   E  U  Q  K  -  133 

another,  completely  baffled  me,  and  1  was  as  much  be 
wildered  as  Michael  himself.  I  tried,  however,  to  be  brave 
and  keep  up  my  courage,  trusting  momentarily  that 
Michael  would  return  and  report  favorably  of  a  road  on 
the  other  side,  which  would  lead  somewhere  /  anything  was 
better  than  this  pathless  common. 

I  tried  to  be  patient  as  the  moments  passed  without  any 
signs  of  his  return.  I  walked  my  horse  up  and  down 
beside  the  fence,  and  struggled  manfully  to  be  calm. 
There  was  not  light  enough  left  to  see  him  till  he  got  near 
me ;  all  I  could  do  was  to  wait.  And  I  did  wait ;  hours,  it 
seemed  to  me,  till  every  nerve  throbbed  with  fear,  and  the 
nameless  horrors  that  night  and  solitude  always  bring  to 
those  who  brave  them  for  the  first,  crowded  so  upon  me, 
that  I  would  rather  have  ridden  into  certain  danger,  than 
have  waited  there  another  moment ;  and  I  dashed  across  the 
common,  toward  the  dark  woods  that  skirted  it.  I  halted 
and  called  as  loudly  as  I  could,  but  no  answer  came.  Then 
riding  along  the  edge  of  the  wood,  I  called  again,  with  all 
my  strength,  and  waited  for  the  reply  as  if  my  life  hung 
upon  the  sound  of  a  human  voice.  None  came,  and  half 
wild  at  the  dawning  of  this  new  terror,  entire  isolation,  I 
whipped  Madge  to  her  utmost  speed,  and  flew  along  the 
whole  length  of  the  wood,  then  back  again,  shouting 
Michael's  name. 

At  that  moment  the  moon  came  out  from  behind  the 
shifting  clouds,  and  halting  suddenly,  I  looked  around  me ; 
the  common,  as  far  as  I  could  see,  was  bare ;  the  woods 
were  before  me ;  I  had  halted  at  the  entrance  of  a  road 
that  led  into  them.  Perhaps  Michael  was  wandering  there, 
and  calling  once  more,  I  waited  in  vain  for  any  answer  but 
the  swaying  of  the  boughs  in  the  night  wind,  and  the  pant 
ing  of  my  tired  horse.  At  this  renewed  disappointment, 
all  my.  firmness  gave  way,  and-  all  the  perils  and  horrors' 
that  fancy  suggested  rushed  upon  me  ;  dropping  the  reins 
upon  the  horse's  neck,  and  Governing  my  face  witb  mj 


184:  RUTLEDOE. 

hands,  I  uttered  a  cry  of  despair.  Startled  by  it,  and  by 
the  sudden  relaxing  of  the  reins,  the  horse  gave  a  bound 
forward,  and  dashed  terrified  into  the  woods.  That  I  was 
not  unseated,  is  the  strangest  part  of  all  my'  strange  adven 
ture  ;  but  conscious  of  nothing,  save  an  agonized  fear  of 
losing  this  my  only  living  companion,  I  clung  tightly  to  her 
neck}  as  brushing  against  the  overhanging  boughs,  and 
swaying  from  side  to  side  of  the  narrow  road,  she  tore  on 
ward  in  her  headlong  race.  Of  the  length  of  time  that 
passed  before,  spent  with  fatigue  and  shuddering  in  every 
limb,  she  paused  suddenly  before  a  fallen  tree  that  block 
aded  the  road,  I  can  form  no  idea.  It  was  all,  as  then  in 
acting,  so  now  in  recalling,  one  wild  dream  of  terror.  It 
may  have  been  moments,  or  perhaps  only  seconds,  before, 
raising  myself  from  my  crouching  attitude,  I  looked 
around,  and  saw  the  position  of  the  horse,  and  the  fright 
that  she  was  in.  The  moon  was  shining  fitfully  through  the 
naked  branches  of  the  forest  around  us,  and  right  across 
the  road,  lay  the  giant  trunk  of  a  fallen  tree  ;  while  the 
only  sound  except  the  moaning  of  the  wind,  was  the  brawl 
ing  of  a  stream  that  ran  beside  the  road.  Madge  shook 
violently,  while  I  tried  to  soothe  her,  but  in  vain. 

I  slipped  down  from  the  saddle,  still  holding  the  bridle 
over  my  arm,  and  almost  fell,  from  the  dizzy  feejing  on  first 
touching  the  ground  after  being  so  long  in  one  position.  I 
regained  my  feet,  and  approaching  her,  patted  her  neck, 
and  tried  to  urge  her  to  make  the  leap  ;  it  was  unbearable 
to  think  of  staying  an  instant  here  !  But  it  was  hopeless  ; 
Avith  her  feet  planted  in  the  earth,  and  eyes  dilated  with 
terror,  she  refused  to  move.  A  groan  of  misery  escaped 
me  as  this  last  hope  was  cut  off;  I  tied  the  bridle  to  a  low 
branch,  and  sitting  down  upon  the  fallen  tree,  buried  my 
face  in  my  hands,  in  hopeless,  stupefied  despair.  The  cold 
night-air  was  chilling  me  to  the  heart ;  my  habit  was,  at 
best,  but  barely  warm  enough  in  the  day,  and  when  heated 
with  exercise ;  now,  the  wind  -seemed  to  strike  through  and 


«UTLEDGE.  135 

through  me ;  and  1  crouched  down,  tiding  my  eyes  from 
the  ghastly,  fitful  dancing  of  the  moonbeams,  and  shook 
from  head  to  foot. 

Look  in  whatever  way  I  might,  there  was  nothing  but 
terror  starung  me  in  the  face.  How  many  miles  I  was  from 
any  hurnain  habitation,  I  did  not  dare  to  think ;  but  indeed 
it  mattered  little  ;  I  could  not,  benumbed  and  aching  as  I 
was,  have  walked  half  a  mile,  even  with  the  certainty  of 
help  before  me ;  and  I  doubted  whether,  if  the  horse  could 
have  been  coaxed  over  the  cruel  obstacle  that  stopped  her 
Bourse,  I  could  have  mounted  her  again.  I  was  bound, 
helpless,  hopeless !  My  exaggerated  fancy  refused  all  hope, 
and  seized  all  that  was  frightful,  and  held  up  before  me  the 
dread  that,  unless  some  unforeseen  help  should  come,  I  should 
perish  during  the  slow  waning  of  the  awful  night  that  had 
but  just  begun.  I  saw  life  and  youth, 

"  And  time  and  hope  behind  me  cast," 

and  one  black  shadow  creeping  toward  me,  slowly,  but 
with  unswerving  tread ;  silently,  but  with  intensest  gaze, 
freezing  me  with  horror.  And  with  a  sort,  of  mockery,  the 
words  that  had  seemed  so  soothing  and  peaceful,  when  life 
was  sure  and  unthreatened,  rang  in  my  ears : 

"  Death  comes  to  set  thee  free — 
0  meet  him  cheerily 
As  thy  true  friend." 

Starting  to  my  feet,  I  cried  aloud,  as  if  stung  with  sudden 
pain  :  "  No,  no !  not  such  death  as  this  ;  I  cannot !  Oh,  is 
there  no  help  !"  And  calling  passionately  Mr.  Rutledge's 
name,  I  listened  as  if  it  were  impossible  that  I  could  call 
on  him  in  vain.  But  no  voice  nor  answer  came  ;  the  sway 
ing  branches  moaned  loudly  as  the  angry  wind  swept 
through  them ;  the  swollen  stream  rushed  by  with  a  mourn 
ful  sound ;  the  dead  leaves  fluttered  in  the  fitful  blast :  thi» 


136  RDTLEDGE. 

was  my  answer — this  was  all  uhe  help  my  appeals  would 
gam.  With  a  cry  of  anguish,  I  cast  myself  down  upon  the 
earth,  and  sent  to  heaven  such  a  prayer  as  only  despair  and 
mortal  terror  can  wring  from  the  heart.  Not  as  people 
pray  at  home,  morning  and  evening,  with  Death  at  worst  a 
distant  enemy,  and  Terror  and  Temptation  just  so  many 
words  ;  not  as  people  pray  from  duty,  or  from  habit,  or  out 
of  respect  to  religion,  I  prayed  then.  Not  as  I  had  often 
asked  for  mercy,  Sunday  after  Sunday,  in  the  Litany,  and 
thought  I  was  in  earnest,  did  I  ask  for  it  now ;  but  with 
such  agony  of  earnestness,  such  wild  entreaty,  as  those  ten 
men  in  the  Samaritan  village  put  into  their  prayer  for 
mercy;  a  De  Profundis  that  came  from  the  lowest  depths 
of  abasement  and  despair.  It  was  a  fearful  struggle,  but  it 
passed  over,  and  left  me  calmer. 

Whether  it  was  that  hope  was  dead,  and  the  quiet  that 
crept  over  me  was  the  quiet  of  despair,  or  that  really  faith 
and  resignation  had  come  at  last,  I  could  not  tell ;  but 
exhausted,  benumbed,  half  dead,  I  lay  motionless  upon  l^he 
ground,  while  the  moments  crept  slowly  on,  and  formed 
themselves  into  hours ;  and  still,  with  an  ear  that  never  lost 
a  note  of  all  the  dirge  that  sounded  through  the  forest,  I 
lay,  face  downward,  indifferent  and  apathetic.  Conscious 
ness  never  slept  a  single  moment  of  the  dreadful  hours  that 
passed  over  me,  but  Fear  and  Excitement  did  ;  and  these 
terrible  enemies  only  woke,  when  a  sound  that  was  not 
brawl  of  stream  or  roar  of  wind,  profaned  the  ghastly  soli 
tude.  It  was  a  sound  far  fainter  and  less  appalling  than 
those  I  had  been  listening  to,  unmoved,  so  long,  but  it 
roused  the  keenest  terror.  Far  down  the  road,  I  first 
caught  it,  so  low  that  it  might  have  been  the  falling  of  a 
nut  the  high  wind  had  shaken  from  its  tree  ;  again,  this 
time  nearer,  and  the  leaves  rustle,  and  a  chance  bough 
crackles.  I  do  not  stir  a  hair's  breadth  from  where  I  lie — 
the  step  approaches — I  do  not  raise  my  head  nor  move  a 
muscle — I  do  not  think,  nor  wonder  what  it  is,  but  all  facul 


RUTLEDOE.  137 

ties  absorbed  in  one,  all  energies  concentrated  in  that  one 
effort,  I  listen  for  the  approaching  sound.  Nearer  and 
nearer ;  and  the  quick  terror  shoots  through  every  chilled 
rein.  In  another  moment — but  with  resistless  power,  horror 
sweeps  over  every  sense,  and  m  oiib  wild  surge,  blots  out 
reason,  memory,  and  consciousness. 


CHAPTER   X. 

"  0,  I  have  passed  a  miserable  night 
So  full  of  fearful  dreams,  of  ugly  sights, 
That  as  I  am  a  Christian  faithful  man, 
I  would  not  spend  another  such  a  night, 
Though  'twere  to  buy  a  world  of  happy  Jays ; 
So  full  of  dismal  terror  was  the  time." 

EIOHAKD  III. 

A  SHAPELESS  tissue  of  dreams  follow  this  dark  warp 
upon  the  web  of  memory — how  much  the  flashes  of  half- 
received  truth,  how  much  the  fabric  of  distorted  fancy,  I 
cannot  say.  Into  some  such  form  as  this,  they  have  shaped 
themselves :  mixed  up  in  a  confused  way  with  the  sights 
and  sounds  of  that  wild  solitude,  comes  the  recollection  of 
being  clasped  in  arms  whose  familiar  hold  inspired  no 
terror  ;  of  hurried  words  of  endearment,  and  a  kiss  upon 
my  forehead  that  lulled  the  returning  pulsations  of  fear 
into  repose  again  ;  then  a  blank  ;  then  shouting  voices,  and 
the  sound  of  footsteps,  many  and  heavy,  rouse  me  once 
more  into  faint  and  fitful  consciousness,  and  dim  and  spec 
tral  as  a  graveyard  dance  of  witches,  appear  strange  men 
with  lanterns,  who  cluster  round  me ;  and  as  I  close  my 
eyes  in  shuddering  fear,  Michael's  face,  in  distorted  ugli 
ness,  takes  a  hundred  ghastly  shapes,  dances  before  my 
eyes,  and  keeps  out  everything  else,  for  a  space  of  time 
unspeakably  frightful,  as  it  is  immeasurably  long. 

At  last,  dull  stupor  overpowers  it ;  and  long,  long,  after 
that,  comes  a  woman's  kind  face  and  gentle  touch  ;  then  a 
hand  and  voice  that  are  unfamiliar  and  unwelcome  ;  cat 
like  and  soft,  from  which  I  shrink  in  aversion.  Then,  they 
too  vanish,  and  when  next  the  uncertain  mist  of  oblivion 
rolls  up,  I  am  lying  in  a  long  low  room,  strange  and  new  to 


RUTLEDGE.  180 

me,  but  not  unpleasing,  even  by  the  dim  light  that  burns 
upon  the  table,  shaded  from  me  by  a  painted  screen.  My 
eyes  wander  around  inquiringly  upon  the  simple  furniture 
of  the  room,  the  dark,  low  walls,  the  piles  of  books  and 
pamphlets  that  heap  the  shelves  irregularly,  till  they  rest 
upon  the  two  figures  at  the  other  end  of  the  room.  A  fire 
bums  low  on  the  hearth,  and  beside  it  sits  a  man,  stooping 
his  head  upon  his  hand.  Another  in  an  attitude  that  is 
familiar  to  me,  stands  with  his  arm  upon  the  mantelpiece 
shading  his  eyes  from  the  light.  They  talk  low  and 
earnestly ;  sometimes  the  one  standing  by  the  mantelpiece 
strides  impatiently  backward  and  forward,  across  the  room, 
and  resumes  his  former  attitude.  He  by  the  fire  never 
moves.  I  try  to  listen,  but  the  effort  confuses  me  ;  and  it 
is  a  long  while  before  any  of  their  words  reach  me,  and 
then  only  in  a  broken,  uncertain  way.  The  first  I  catch  are 
those  of  the  voice  that  is  familiar  to  me  : 

"It  is  the  first  time  I  ever  rejected  your  counsel;  the 
first  time  I  ever  put  aside  your  warning.  Do  you  believe 
me  when  I  say  it  pains  me  to  the  heart,  after  so  many  years 
of  steadfast  and  close  friendship,  te  rebel  against  the  sacri 
fice  it  requires  of  me  ?  But  you  do  not  know  what  you 
ask,  indeed  you  do  not !" 

"  Perhaps  not,  Arthur,  perhaps  not,"  answered  his  com 
panion,  in  a  low  voice.  "  Do  not  think  again  of  what  I 
said ;  it  was  an  over-anxiety  for  your  happiness  that 
prompted  me  to  speak ;  and  now  forget  the  words,  and 
remember  only  the  love  that  moved  them." 

"  No,  Shenstone,  I  will  not  forget  them,"  the  other  says, 
warmly ;  "  I  know  too  well  the  value  of  your  counsels.  I 
will  remember  what  you  have  said,  and  keep  the  caution 
by  me,  when  there  is  need  for  caution.  But  you  must  not 
blame  me,  if  I  cannot  put  aside  at  once  a  hope  that  has  got 
so  strong  a  hold  upon  me.  I  promise  you  to  do  nothing 
rashly,  to  let  nothing  blind  my  judgment,  to  put  the  test 
of  absence,  change  of  scene,  change  of  interest,  upon  ui 


140  KUTLEDGE. 

both ;  years,  if  you  will,  shall  pass  before  I  dare  attempt 
to  realize  my  hope ;  years'  that  shall-  prove  its  possibility, 
or  show  its  folly;  but  do  not  ask  me  to  give  it  up  at 
once."  • 

Mr.  Shenstone  shook  his  head.  "  Will  it  be  easier  to 
tear  up  the  cherished  hope  of  years,  than  to  put  down  the 
fond  fancy  of  a  day,  my  friend,  do  you  think  ?" 

"  I  am  not  a  man  given  to  fancies,  am  I,  Shenstone  'i  A 
life  as  cold  as  the  last  twenty  years  of  mine  has  been,  does 
not  look  much  like  the  pursuit  of  fancies.  You  have 
known — who  better  ? — the  bitterness  that  poisoned  the  very 
fountain-head  of  my  youth;  you  have  seen  how  it  has 
tainted  the  current  of  my  whole  life ;  how  that  after  yeai  s 
of  suffering  and  self-denial,  it  only  needs  a  word,  a  recol 
lection  of  the  past  to  bring  the  bitter  flood  back  upon  my 
heart.  You  know  all  this,  and  yet  you  deny  me  the  only 
charm  I  see  in  life ;  the  only  light  that  gilds  the  dark 
future  !  Is  this  kind  ?" 

He  walked  impatiently  across  the  room,  then  came  back 
t .  his  place.  The  other  did  not  look  up  nor  speak. 

"  I  know  what  you  would  say,"  continued  his  companion, 
after  a  moment ;  "  I  know  you  would  reinind  me  that  the 
same  blow  that  blighted  my  youth,  struck  deeper  at  your 
heart ;  that  you  have  learned  to  live  without  what  was  life 
to  you  once ;  that  I  can  learn  the  same  hard  lesson.  I 
have  tried,  oh,  my  friend !  I  have  tried  to  gain  your 
heights  of  faith  and  hope ;  but  still  the  unconquered  flesh 
drags  me  down :  the  curse  «hdt  generations  of  godless 
ancestors  have  laid  upon  me  is  unexpiated  yet.  You 
stand  now  where  I  cannot  hope  to  stand  till 

"  Death  comes  to  set  roe  free." 

Death,  that  I  shall  have  won  !     And  hoped  for,  you  know 
longingly,  in  the  old  days  of  wretchedness." 

"  That's  past,  Arthur,  thank  God's  good  grace ;  and  life 


KUTLEDGE. 

K  no  longer  a  penance  to  you ;  and  that  it  never  may  be 
again,  God  in  His  mercy  grant,  and  spare  you  what  I 
dreaded  for  you.  God  bring  you  higher  than  I  stand,  but 
bj>  a  gentler  way,  if  it  be  His  will !  Arthur,  it  was  a  fiercer 
struggle  than  even  you  can  understand,  in  which  my  faith 
was  born.  It  was  a  conflict  that  lasts  through  most  men's 
lives,  that  I  passed  through  at  one  dire  struggle,  and  died 
unto  the  world  forever.  But,  looking  backward,  oh, 
Arthur,  I  can  look  back  now  and  see  how 

"  One  dead  joy  appears 


The  platform  of  some  better  hope." 

Better,  as  heaven  is  than  earth,  as  peace  is  than  tempta 
tion,  as  the  service  of  God  is  than  the  weary  bondage  of 
the  world !» 

He  lifted  his  head  a  moment,  as  if  in  involuntary  triumph, 
then  bent  it  again,  and  was  silent. 

At  that  moment  the  door  softly  opened,  and  the  woman 
I  had  seen  before  stole  up  to  where  I  lay,  and  bending 
down,  looked  in  my  face  with  anxious  inquiry,  while  the 
friends  at  the  other  end  of  the  room  hushed  their  earnest 
tones,  and  one  (my  head  was  throbbing  too  much  to  see 
which)  started  forward,  and  said  anxiously: 

"  Has  the  doctor  come  back  yet,  Mrs.  Arnold  ?" 

"  He  is  in  the  hall  at  this  moment,  sii-,"  she  answered, 
with  preciseness  of  manner,  and  a  peculiar  sweetness  of 
voice. 

Again  the  door  opened,  and  again  I  heard  the  cat-like 
step,  and  felt  the  velvet  touch  that  sent  a  shiver  through 
me ;  and  then  succeeded  a  throbbing  pain  in  my  temples, 
dull  aching  in  every  limb,  a  high  fever  coursing  through 
every  vein,  and  I  lived  over  again  in  delirium  the  scenea 
from  which  I  had  just  escaped.  Again  I  was  lying  beneath 
the  roaring  forest  trees ;  again  the  sharp  throes  of  morta* 
terror  wrung  from  me  the  cry  that  I  had  uttered  then,  thi« 


142  RTJTLEDGE. 

time  to  be  soothed  by  a  tender  and  familiar  voice ;  then 
restless  with  pain,  and  burning  with  fever,  only  pacified  from 
that  dream  to  be  hurried  off  into  another,  wilder  and  more 
terrible.  With  glaring  eyes  and  demoniac  faces,  the  crowd 
of  men,  with  Michael  at  their  head,  were  in  mad  pursuit  of 
a  flying  horse  and  rider ;  with  hideous  jeers  and  yells  they 
urge  them  on,  and  closing  round  the  frantic  steed,  they  tear 
me,  clinging  round  her,  from  Madge's  neck,  and  holding 
me  down  upon  the  ground,  wrench  from  my  arm  the  brace 
let,  that  resists,  at  first,  their  strongest  efforts,  till  the  w^arm 
blood  flows,  and  the  torn  flesh  quivers,  as  staggering  back, 
a  ruffian  lifts  the  bloody  prize,  and  with  a  wild  cry  I  wake, 
only  to  drop  into  another  broken  slumber,  and  to  dream 
another  hideous  dream. 

This  time  it  is  Mrs.  Roberts,  who,  with  rigid,  cruel  face, 
holds  me  down,  and  binding  my  powerless  hands,  thrusts 
me,  struggling  and  frantic,  into  the  dread,  mysterious  dark 
ness  of  that  room.  And  choking  with  terror,  the  agony  ia 
dispelled  by  the  low  voice  that  says,  "  What  is  it  now,  poor 
child  ?"  and  panting  with  fright,  I  cling  to  the  hand  that 
soothes  me,  and  only  from  its  steady  grasp  gain  anything 
like  peace.  And  so  the  night  wears  on.  How  much  of 
these  wild  dreams  revealed  themselves  in  speech  I  know 
not,  and  how  much  of  the  history  of  that  night  belongs  to 
fact,  and  how  much  to  fancy,  it  is  beyond  me  to  decide. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

'  Oh !  what  a  tangled  web  we  weaY«, 
When  first  we  practise  to  deceive  !" 

SOOTT. 

EMERGING  from  this  sea  of  dreams  tumultuous,  I  seemed, 
on  a  certain  cold,  grey  morning,  to  be  stranded  on  the 
shores  of  reality  by  an  ebbing  tide  of  water  gruel  and  weak 
tea.  Having,  from  my  extreme  youth,  entertained  undis 
guised  aversion  to  these  articles  of  food,  I  had  steadily  re 
fused  to  let  a  spoonful  pass  my  lips  ;  consequently,  my  nurse 
and  doctor  not  having  relinquished  a  hope  that  in  time  I 
would  come  to  terms,  many  separate  editions  of  these  in 
vigorating  compounds  stood  upon  the  table  by  my  bed,  in 
bowls  of  larger  growth,  in  teacups  and  saucers,  and  every 
variety  of  earthen  and  china  vessels,  all  covered  and  ar 
ranged  with  consummate  care  and  skill. 

These  observations  I  made  with  great  interest,  as  after  a 
long  period  of  dreamy  stupor,  the  "  keen  demands  of  appe 
tite,"  or  some  indignant  protest  of  nature  against  such  indo 
lent  inactivity,  roused  me ;  and  raising  myself  upon  my 
elbow,  I  looked  around  with  much  curiosity  and  some  be. 
wilderment.  The  room  was  entirely  unfamiliar,  long  and 
old-fashioned  looking.  The  bed  and  the  one  window  were 
curtained  with  white  dimity ;  the  walls  and  ceiling  were 
white-washed  to  a  painful  whiteness ;  the  counterpane,  the 
pillows,  the  sheets,  were  one  drift  of  snoAv.  Indeed,  so  for 
cible  was  this  impression,  that  for  a  moment  it  was  a  ques 
tion  with  me  whether  I  had  not  just  waked  up  from  a  nap 
in  one  of  those  snow-houses,  so  called,  which  it  had  been 
the  delight  of  my  childhood  to  construct,  being  excavations 
in  some  adjacent  snow-bank,  achieved  with  the  help  of  a 

US 


144  BUTLEDGE. 

friendly  spade,  in  which  I  would  lie  and  dream  of  icy  pa- 
laces,  and  frosty  fairy  fabrics.  The  idea  that  I  had  been 
napping  it  in  one  of  these  juvenile  architectural  devices,  was 
favored  by  the  lowness  of  the  white  ceiling,  which  seemed 
almost  within  touch,  and  the  long,  narrow  shape  of  the 
room,  terminating  in  a  small,  white-curtained  window, 
through  which  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  cold  grey  sky,  that 
suggested  snow  and  chill. 

A  tiny  fire,  however,  in  a  tiny  grate,  and  a  woman  sew 
ing  by  what  I  had  conceived  to  be  the  mouth  of  the  cave, 
but  which,  I  was  obliged  to  confess,  was  unmistakably  a 
window,  quite  dispelled  the  illusion,  and  I  had  nothing  left 
me  but  to  come  down  to  cold  reality  again,  after  a  sojourn 
in  dream-land  so  long  as  to  render  me  a  little  uncertain  and 
beAvildered  on  all  mundane  matters.  I  looked  quite  atten 
tively  for  some  time  at  the  woman  by  the  window,  then 
startled  her  very  considerably  by  saying  suddenly : 
"  Are  you  the  one  they  call  Mrs.  Arnold  ?" 
She  dropped  her  work,  started  up,  and  approached  the 
bed,  saying,  in  her  precise  manner  and  sweet  voice : 

"  That  is  my  name,  Miss.     Can  I  do  anything  for  you  ?" 
"  No,"  I  said  slowly,  looking  at  her,  "  I  don't  think  of 
anything,  thank  you." 

And  while  Mrs.  Arnold,  after  arranging  the  pillows,  and 
in  a  neat,  quick-handed  way,  straightening  and  tidying 
everything  on  the  table  and  around  the  bed,  returned  to 
her  work,  I  watched  her  very  attentively,  and  I  am  afraid 
very  rudely,  from  the  slight  color  that  arose  in  her  pale 
cheek  as  she  caught  my  eye  again  and  again  fixed  on  her 
inquiringly.  She  was  a  middle-aged  woman,  about  middle- 
size,  with  nothing  peculiar  in  dress  or  manner,  except  a 
scrupulous  precision  and  neatness.  Her  hair  was  very  grey, 
but  her  face  was  a  younger  one  than  you  would  have 
expected  to  see,  after  looking  at  her  slightly-stooping 
figure  and  white  hair.  Her  skin  was  unwrinkled  and  cleav, 
her  eyes  soft  and  brown,  and  the  sweetest  possible  smile 


RUTLEDGE.  145 

sometimes  stirred  her  lips.  But  it  died  very  quickly 
always,  and  never  seemed  to  come  voluntarily ;  only  "  when 
called  for,"  and  then  to  cheer  or  comfort  some  one  else — 
never  because  of  any  happy  emotion  within,  that  found  that 
expression  for  itself.  She  conveyed  the  idea  of  a  woman 
who  had  been  a  very  high-spirited  and  impetuous  one,  but 
who  was  now  a  very  broken  and  sad  one ;  a  soul 

"  By  nature  pitched  too  high, 

By  sufferings  plunged  too  low," 

but  now  past  struggle  and  rebellion,  subdued  and  deso 
lated,  waiting  patiently  for  the  end.  This  much  I  read,  or 
thought  I  read,  in  her  quiet  face,  as  still  leaning  on  my 
elbow,  I  watched  her  movements.  I  was  irresistibly  at 
tracted  to  her,  and  essayed  to  continue  our  brief  conver 
sation,  by  saying : 

"  Hasn't  *  that  Kitty,'  as  Mrs.  Roberts  calls  her,  been  here 
since  I  have  been  sick  ?" 

"  She  has  been  here,  and  went  away  only  half  an  hour 
ago,  to  get  some  of  your  things.  I  expect  her  back  every 
minute." 

"  I  thought  I'd  seen  her,"  I  rejoined,  meditatively.  "And 
how  about  Mrs.  Roberts,  has  she  been  here  ?" 

"  She  has  ;  she  was  here  all  yesterday  afternoon." 

I  lay  quite  still  for  a  little  while,  then  said,  rather 
abruptly : 

"  I  can't  exactly  make  it  out — where  am  I,  and  whose 
house  is  this  ?" 

Mrs.  Arnold  smiled  kindly,  and  turning  toward  me,  said  : 

"  You  have  been  too  sick  to  know  much  about  anything ; 
you  are  at  the  Parsonage,  and  this  is  Mr.  Shenstone's 
house,  and  I  am  Mr.  Shenstone's  housekeeper.  And  now 
do  not  puzzle  your  head  with  any  more  thinking;  ask 
me  any  questions  you  want  to  know,  and  then  try  to  lie 
quiet." 


146  RUTLEDGE. 

"  I  think  I've  been  quiet  long  enough  in  all  conscience f " 
I  said,  with  energy.  "  I  feel  a  great  deal  better,  Mrs. 
Arnold." 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  hear  it,  Miss.  Will  you  have  some 
thing  to  eat  ?" 

"  What  can  I  have  ?» 

"  Some  very  nice  gruel,  Miss,  or  some  " 

"  Wait  a  minute,  Mrs.  Arnold,"  I  said,  rising  up  and 
speaking  very  impressively ;  "  there  is  no  use,  indeed  there 
is  no  use,  in  asking  me  to  take  such  things ;  I  never  can, 
and  you  will  only  have  to  give  it  up  at  last.  Miss  Crowen 
had  to ;  I  stood  it  out  till  she  thought  I  was  going  to  die  on 
her  hands,  I  believe,  and  had  to  give  me  something  decent 
at  last.  People  are  always  trying  to  make  me  eat  gruel, 
and  farina,  and  arrowroot,  and  beef-tea,  and  such  miseries, 
just  as  soon  as  I'm  in  the  least  bit  sick,  and  begin  to  caie 
what  I  eat.  Now  don't  you  be  so  unkind,  will  you,  dear 
Mrs.  Arnold  ?" 

Mrs.  Arnold  smiled  ;  it  was  the  doctor,  she  said,  wno 
had  prescribed  the  gruel ;  if  he  was  willing  to  give  me 
something  nicer,  she  should  be  very  happy  to  prepare  it 
for  me. 

"  Do  you  know,'*  I  said,  mysteriously,  "  that  as  a  general 
thing,  I  don't  think  much  of  doctors?  Country  doctors 
least  of  all.  One's  common  sense  is  the  best  guide  in  most 
cases.  Why,  it  stands  to  reason,  that  I  know  better  what 
I  ought  to  have  to  eat,  when  I'm  not  well,  than  a  great 
strong  man  does,  who  never  lost  his  appetite  in  his  life,  and 
doesn't  in  the  least  care  what  he  has  to  eat,  as  long  as 
there's  enough  of  it !  I  am  the  best  judge,  you  must  see 
plainly,  Mrs.  Arnold." 

Mrs.  Arnold  shook  her  head ;  doctors  mightn't  know 
"vhat  we  would  like,  she  said,  always,  but  it  was  just  pos« 
sibie  they  might  know  what  was  best  for  us,  being  dis 
interested  judges.  Didn't  I  think  so  ? 

*'  By  no  means,"  I  exclaimed,   "  unless  they  are  pecu 


BTJTJLEDGE. 

tiarly  intelligent  men,  and  not  like  that  odious  Dr.  Sar- 
tain,  who  nearly  frightened  me  to  death,  and  nearly  killed 
Mr.  Rutledge,  by  setting  his  arm  badly.  Mr.  Rutledge 
himself  is  ten  times  better  a  doctor.  He  can  tell  what's  the 
matter  with  people  by  just  looking  at  them ;  and,"  I  con 
tinued,  coming  abruptly  back  to  the  point  of  interest,  and 
hoping  to  carry  it  by  the  suddenness  of  the  attack,  "  he 
would  never  make  any  one  eat  water-gruel  if  they  hated  it. 
I'm  positive,  if  you  asked  him,  he'd  say, x  let  her  have  what 
she  wants,  of  course,  it  cannot  do  her  any  harm.' " 

Mrs.  Arnold  shook  her  head  again,  and  said : 

"  Ah,  Miss,  it's  very  hard  to  say  '  no ;'  but  it  must  be, 
till  the  doctor  comes,,  whom  I  am  expecting  every  minute." 

"  What's  the  doctor's  name  ?" 

"  His  name  is  Hugh,  Miss ;  a  very  fine  young  man  they 
say ;  he  is  just  settled  in  the  village,,  and  every  one  is  very 
much  pleased  with  him ;  he  is  getting  all  the  practice  away 
from  Dr.  Sartain,  who,  though  he  lives  so  far  away,  has  been 
for  a  long  time  the  nearest  physician.  But  here's  his  gig 
at  the  door  now,"  continued  she,  coming  up  to  the  bed. 
"  Are  you  ready  to  see  him  ?" 

"  Yes,  quite,"  I  answered ;  and  she  hurried  down  to 
usher  up  the  doctor. 

Now  I  had  my  own  views  regarding  this  gentleman, 
and  all  Mrs.  Arnold's  commendation  could  not  change 
the  current  of  my  feelings  toward  him ;  so  when  he 
approached  my  bedside,  it  was  a  very  slight  and  stiff 
recognition  that  his  arrival  elicited  from  me.  He  did  not 
seem  a  whit  annoyed  by  it,  however,  and  with  unruffled 
blandness,  laid  down  his  hat  and  gloves,  and  seated  him 
self,  while  Mrs.  Arnold  stood  at  the  foot  of  the  bed,  unob 
trusively  attentive. 

The  new  doctor  was  a  good-sized,  good-looking  man,  with 
reddish  hair  and  whiskers,  and  very  white  teeth  and  very 
light  eyes.  That  he  "  hailed '!  from  New  England  no  one 
could  doubt  after  five  minutes  spent  in  his  society ;  equality 


148  BUTLEEGE. 

and  fraternity,  go-a-head-i-tiveness  and  go-to-the-deuce-if- 
you-get-in-my-way-itiveness  were  still  visible  to  an  impartial 
eye,  under  all  the  layers  of  suavity,  professional  decorum 
and  good  breeding,  with  which  his  educational  residence  in 
the  metropolis  had  plastered  over  the  native  roughnesses  of 
his  rustic  breeding.  If  the  chill  penury  that  usually  re 
presses  the  noble  rage  of  the  New  England  youth,  had  not 
been  defeated  of  its  cruel  purpose  by  a  "  little  annuity " 
from  his  maternal  grandfather,  elevating  him  from  the 
plough  to  the  practice  of  medicine,  one  could  not  help  think, 
ing  how  fine  a  specimen  of  the  genuine  Yankee  he  would 
have  been.  How  he  would  have  risen  from  a  boyhood  de 
voted  to  whittling,  swapping,  and  carting  lumber,  to  a 
youth  engaged  in  itinerant  mercantile  transactions,  and  an 
early  manhood  consecrate  to  science  and  literature,  in  the 
onerous  post  of  common-school  teacher.  The  hero  he  would 
have  been  at  quiltings  and  at  singing-schools !  The  bargains 
he  would  have  driven  in  tin  and  garden-seeds,  exchanged 
for  feathers  and  rags !  The  matchless  cuteness,  the  inherent 
cunning,  that  would  have  marked  his  career ! 

"  But  whither  would  conjecture  stray  ?" 

The  little  annuity  ($150)  had  intervened,  and  Dr.  Hugh 
stood  before  the  public  a  professional  gentleman  in  the 
midst  of  a  growing  practice,  a  rising  man  in  a  country 
where,  once  started,  it  is  easier  to  rise  than  to  sit  still.  H<? 
was,  at  the  moment  when  I  was  making  these  reflections  on 
his  character,  suavely  regarding  me,  ana  had  softly  laid  two 
fingers  upon  ray  wrist,  and,  with  head  slightly  inclined,  was 
counting  my  pulse.  The  result  gratified  him ;  for  looking 
up  with  a  complacency  that  indicated  very  plainly  the 
source  to  which  he  attributed  the  improvement,  he  said, 
addressing  Mrs.  Arnold : 

"  A  marked  change  for  the  better,  madam — a  marked 
change." 


BUTLEDGE.  14:9 

It  was  an  involuntary  tiling  for  me  to  pull  my  hand  im 
patiently  from  his  continued  touch,  and  to  turn  my  head 
away,  so  disagreeably  did  his  manner  impress  me.  No 
change  of  tone,  however,  indicated  any  resentment  as  he 
said,  in  apology  for  me,  as  it  appeared : 

"  A  little  restless  and  feverish  yet,  I  am  afraid." 

"  On  the  contrary,"  I  said,  with  great  distinctness,  turn 
ing  toward  him  again,  "  on  the  contrary,  I  never  felt  quieter 
or  less  feverish  in  my  life.  I  am  quite  well,  except  a  little 
weakness,  which  will  be  remedied  by  allowing  me  suitable 
and  nourishing  food ;  and  Mrs.  Arnold  is  only  waiting  for 
your  permission  to  get  me  some  broiled  chicken  and  roast 
oysters,  which  I  have  no  doubt  you  are  perfectly  willing  to 
allow." 

The  doctor  looked  astonished  at  this  emphatic  declara 
tion  and  proposition,  and  for  a  space  seemed  inclined  to 
resist  such  unheard  of  demands ;  but  seeing,  no  doubt,  the 
hopelessness  of  bringing  me  to  reason,  and  the  fear  of  alien 
ating  irretrievably  so  important  a  patient  as  the  guest  at  the 
great  house,  he  thought  it  best  to  yield  as  graciously  as 
possible.  The  idea  of  losing  the  chance  of  the  Rutledge 
patronage  was  not  to  be  entertained  for  a  moment,  and  it 
is  my  opinion  that,  with  a  view  to  averting  such  a  blow  to 
his  success,  he  would  have  conceded  me  an  unlimited  grant 
of  lobster-salad  and  turtle  soup,  if  I  had  been  pleased  to 
fancy  those  viands.  As  it  was,  however,  I  bore  my  triumph 
very  unexcitedly,  merely  giving  Mrs.  Arnold  a  significant 
look,  which  indicated  as  much  hungry  complacency  as  was 
consistent  with  my  dignity  ;  upon  which  she  proposed  de 
scending  to  prepare  my  meal,  and  Kitty  entering  just  then, 
she  considered  herself  no  longer  necessary,  and  withdrew 
for  that  purpose.  The  doctor  being  engaged  in  writing  ;i 
prescription,  I  had  nothing  to  distract  Piy  attention  from 
Kitty,  who  overwhelmed  me  with  congratulations  upon  my 
improved  condition ;  which  congratulations,  however,  1 
could  not  with  sincerity  return,  for  having,  ii;  lu>r  ca 


150  RTJTLEDGE. 

run  every  step  of  the  way  to  Rutledge  and  back,  her  con* 
dition  was  best  described  by  the  inelegant  term,  "  blown." 

"  But  oh,  Miss,"  she  exclaimed,  in  panting  incoherency, 
"  it  is  so  nice  to  see  you  opening  your  eyes  and  taking  no 
tice  !  Mr.  Rutledge  will  be  so  glad  !" 

"  How  is  he,  and  why  didn't  he  come  ?"  I  asked. 

"  Well,"  said  Kitty,  candidly,  "  I  wasn't  to  tell  you,  but 
Z  don't  see  the  harm.  Mr.  Rutledge's  arm  has  been  bad 
again,  and  he  can't  go  out  of  the  house.  But  here's  a  note 
for  you  from  him." 

And  Kitty  pulled  from  her  apron-pocket  a  note,  that  I 
seized  eagerly.  And  forgetting  doctor  and  maid,  with  flushed 
cheeks  and  parted  lips,  I  read  and  reread  the  brief  note — 
very  brief,  but  very  characteristic — kind,  almost  tender — 
concise,  pithy,  and  vigorous,  with  just  a  dash  of  humor  and 
raillery  at  the  close,  and  "  Always  your  friend,  Arthur  Rut- 
ledge."  With  a  pleased  smile,  my  eyes  lingered  over  the 
words,  till  raising  them  inadvertently,  they  encountered 
the  doctor's,  fixed  searchingly  on  my  face.  He  averted 
them  in  an  instant,  however,  but  not  before  he  had  caught 
a  sight  of  the  quick  blush  that  mounted  to  my  temples. 

"  I  was  thinking,"  he  said,  apologetically,  "  I  wras  think 
ing  that  the  light  wras  rather  strong  for  your  eyes.  Shall 
not  the  young  woman  darken  the  window  a  little  ?" 

I  rejected  the  proposal  contemptuously,  and  the  medical 
gentleman,  after  an  abortive  attempt  at  a  compliment, 
and  a  bow  that  was  a  shade  less  complacent  than  usual, 
took  his  leave. 

"  I  hate  that  man !"  I  exclaimed,  as  the  door  closed  be 
hind  him.  "  I  never  shall  learn  to  treat  him  civilly." 

Kitty  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"The  people  in  the  village  think  there's  nobody  like  him. 
He's  got  a  very  taking  way  with  all  the  common  folks,  put 
ting  his  arm  around  the  women's  waists,  and  patting  the 
men  on  the  shoulder,  and  talking  to  everybody  alike.  But 
I  don't  like  the  look  of  him,  for  all  his  fair-and-softly  ways. 


RUTLEDGE.  151 

And  he's  been  watching  you,  Miss,  for  the  last  five  minutes, 
as  a  cat  watches  a  mouse." 

I  bit  my  lip,-  but  merely  said : 

"  No  matter,  Kitty ;  he  may  be  a  good  doctor  for  all  that, 
and  he  will  not  have  a  chance  to  watch  me  much  longei,  I 
hope.  You  may  darken  the  window;  I  believe  he  was 
right  about  that  matter,  and  I'll  try  to  sleep  a  little  till  my 
breakfast,  or  whatever  it  is,  comes  up.  In  the  meantime, 
perhaps  you  had  better  go  and  see  if  you  cannot  help  Mrs. 
Arnold." 

Kitty  obeyed,  and  in  a  few  minutes  I  was  left  alone,  but 
unluckily  with  no  very  pleasant  thoughts  to  keep  me  com 
pany,  and  no  overtures  from  tired  nature's  sweet  restorer 
either,  to  put  them  to  flight.  I  was  very  much  irritated  at 
the  doctor's  manner,  and  a  good  deal  annoyed  at  having 
expressed  my  irritation  so  warmly  to  Kitty ;  and  compunc 
tious  visitings  also  troubled  me  about  my  self-will  on  the 
subject  of  the  broiled  chicken  and  oysters,  to  which  was 
added  a  confused  sort  of  penitential  alarm  about  the  pur 
joined  riding-skirt,  and  to  crown  all,  a  startling  discovery, 
that  made  me  absolutely  weak  with  fright. 

The  miniature,  which  for  some  time  past  had  been  vacil 
lating  between  my  pocket  and  my  trunk,  as  its  safety 
demanded,  had,  on  the  afternoon  of  my  ride,  being  lying 
on  the  table  before  me,  while  I  was  dressing,  but  on  an  alarm 
of  Mrs.  Roberts'  approach,  I  had  thrown  the  ribbon  around 
my  neck,  and  hid  it  in  my  bosom,  whence,  in  my  hurry  and 
excitement,  I  had  forgotten  to  take  it,  and  it  had  remained 
there  during  my  ride,  for  I  remembered  feeling  it,  with  no 
pleasant  association  at  the  time  either,  while  I  was  waiting 
for  Michael  on  the  common.  This  I  distinctly  remembered, 
and — now  it  was  gone.  That  was  all  I  knew ;  that  waa 
enough  to  make  me  sick  with  fright.  I  covered  up  my 
face,  and  lay  quiet,  but  very  miserable.  What  would  I  not 
have  given  if  I  had  never  touched  that  miniature,  or  worn 
that  skirt.  The  business  of  deceit  was  new  to  me,  and  \i 


152  KUTLEDGE. 

proportion  it  looked  black.  I  had  almost  fretted  myscll 
into  a  fever,  when  Mrs.  Arnold  reappeared  svith  my  goilte, 
most  temptingly  arranged  upon  the  cleanest  of  china  and 
whitest  of  napkins.  She  placed  it  by  me,  and  announced 
that  it  was  ready. 

I  looked  tip  in  he)1  face,  my  own  rather  flushed,  no  doubt, 
and  said : 

"  You  see  he  let  me  have  *t,  Mrs.  Arnold." 

"  I  see  he  did,  Miss,"  she  answered,  quite  gravely. 

"  I  knew  he  would ;  I  was  right  after  all."  . 

"  I  hope  so,  Miss." 

Her  grave  looks  troubled  me.  I  did  not  take  the  knife 
and  fork  she  oifered  me,  but  looking  at  her  earnestly,  I 
said,  abruptly : 

"  Mrs.  Arnold,  honestly,  do  you  think  that's  bad  for 
me?" 

She  looked  somewhat  startled  by  my  question,  but 
answered  quietly: 

"  Honestly,  Miss,  I  think  it  is  a  risk ;  but  the  doctor  has 
consented,  and  I  have  nothing  to  say." 

"  Very  well,"  I  said,  pushing  the  table  back,  "  I  am  sorry 
to  have  given  you  so  much  trouble  for  nothing.  Will  you 
warm  that  gruel  for  me." 

Mrs.  Arnold  paused  in  the  act  of  raising  the  cover  from 
the  oysters : 

"  Do  you  mean,  Miss,  that  you  do  not  intend  to  cat 
this?" 

"  Yes,"  I  said,  concisely,  "  I  will  take  the  gruel,  if 
you'll  warm  it,  please.  There's  fire  enough  there." 

She  gave  me  rather  a  curious  look;  then  quietly  removed 
the  tray  into  the  hall,  and  proceeded  to  warm  the  gruel.  I 
swallowed  the  tasteless  compound  without  flinching,  while 
Mrs.  Arnold  watched  me  silently,  and  took  away  the 
emptied  bowl  without  a  word  of  comment.  I  lay  very 
silent  but  very  sleepless  till  Kitty  came  up  ;  then  watched 
anxiously  till  Mrs.  Arnold  should  leave  the  room,  which 


BUTL.EDOE.  153 

she  was  very  long  in  doing.  When  at  last  she  did,  I 
started  up,  exclaiming: 

"  Bolt  that  door,  and  come  here,  Kitty  !" 

She  obeyed,  but  not  very  cheerfully,  I  fancied  ;  indeed 
there  had  been  a  shade  of  anxiety  on  her  face  for  some 
time. 

"Kitty,"  I  said,  hurriedly  and  gravely,  "I've  lost  tho 
miniature  ;  do  you  know  anything  about  it  ?" 

She  did  not  look  surprised,  but  very  unhappy,  as  she 
answered : 

"  I  know  it's  gone,  Miss ;  but  where,  I  know  no  more 
than  the  dead." 

She  then  explained — that  that  night,  just  after  she  had 
been  sent  for,  and  arrived,  as  she  came  into  the  study 
where  I  was  lying,  she  found  Mr.  Shenstone  and  the  doctor 
both  standing  by  me,  Mrs.  Arnold  at  the  fire,  preparing 
some  medicine ;  Mr.  Rutledge  had  just  passed  her  in  the 
hall.  I  seemed  delirious,  for  I  started  up  and  exclaimed 
something  incoherently,  then  fell  back,  and  Mr.  Shenstone 
stooping  down,  said  something  soothingly,  but  instantly 
started  back,  with  an  exclamation  of  dismay  and  astonish 
ment,  which  of  course  did  not  escape  either  the  doctor  or 
Kitty.  The  latter  hurried  up,  and  stole  a  glance  at  me, 
and  she  could  scarcely  repress  a  similar  ciy  when  she  saw 
the  guilty  miniature,  which  had  slipped  from  my  dress, 
lying  in  full  view.  Mr.  Shenstone's  face  was  pale,  and  he 
put  his  hand  to  his  forehead,  as  if  in  pain.  Her  only  hope 
was,  that  the  light  being  dim,  he  had  not  seen  it  distinctly, 
and  now  the  thing  was  to  get  it  away  before  either  he  or 
the  doctor  had  had  a  second  look.  Giving  the  table-cover 
a  sudden  jerk,  she  precipitated  the  lamp  upon  the  floor, 
and  involved  the  room  in  sudden  darkness.  Deprecating 
her  awkwardness,  she  hurried  to  pick  up  the  lamp.  While 
the  others  were  engaged  in  remedying  the  accident,  and 
finding  a  light,  about  which  there  seemed  much  difficulty, 
ghe  stole  to  where  I  lay,  and  attempted  to  rescue  the  minia 


154  BUT  LEDGE. 

ture  5  but,  alas !  in  vain.  Some  one  had  been  there  before 
her,  and  a  cold  hand  on  my  breast  touched  hers,  as  she 
groped  for  it,  and  was  suddenly  withdrawn.  It  was  not 
my  hand,  for  mine  were  burning  with  fever;  and  when, 
after  a  moment  more  of  delay,  a  light  was  struck,  Mrs. 
Arnold  and  Mr.  Shenstone  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  room 
by  the  table,  and  •  the  doctor  at  the  opposite  end,  by  the 
mantelpiece,  looking  for  some  matches  that  Mrs.  Arnold 
had  said  were  kept  there.  She  looked  down  at  me ;  I  lay 
quietly,  one  hand  under  my  head,  the  other  at  my  side. 
An  end  of  blue  ribbon  hung  from  my  dress ;  it  had  been  cut 
off  hastily,  for  a  glance  told  her  the  edge  was  too  smooth 
to  have  been  torn. 

Kitty  was  a  keen  observer,  and  her  whole  heart  was  in  this 
mystery ;  she  watched,  as  if  her  life  had  depended  on  it, 
to  see  who  should  betray  the  least  sign  of  guilt,  but  she  was 
completely  baffled.  Certainly  not  Mr.  Shenstone  ;  he  even 
looked  curiously  at  the  ribbon,  and  then  sternly  at  Kitty, 
as  if  supposing  she  had  taken  it ;  not  the  doctor,  for  he  was 
at  the  other  end  of  the  room,  and  was  more  unconcerned 
and  indifferent  than  any  one  present ;  not  Mrs.  Arnold,  for 
not  having  been  beside  me  when  the  miniature  slipped 
from  my  dress,  she  could  not  have  seen  it,  and  conse 
quently  she  could  not  have  taken  it  in  the  dark,  and  so 
readily  too. 

"  Ah !"  Kitty  exclaimed,  "  I  passed  a  dreadful  night, 
Miss ;  I  didn't  know  what  it  was  to  close  my  eyes ;  such 
awful  thoughts  as  would  come  !" 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?"  I  said  hurriedly.  "  Which  of 
them  do  you  think  has  it  ?" 

"  Ah,  Miss !"  she  exclaimed,  with  a  burst  of  tears,  "  I 
wish  I  thought  any  of  'em  had  it !  I've  had  enough  of 
meddling  with  dead  people's  things  for  the  rest  of  my  life, 
that  I  have !" 

"  I  wish  you  would  speak  intelligibly ;  what  do  you 
mean  ?"  I  exclaimed,  angrily. 


RUT  LEDGE.  155 

Kitty  answered  by  fresh  tears,  "  Oh,  don't  make  me 
talk  about  it!  Indeed,  I  cannot!" 

"'  I  shall  be  very  much  displeased  if  you  act  in  this  way 
any  longer,"  I  said,  with  emphasis,  as  Kitty  still  shook  her 
l±ead.  I  heard  footsteps  in  the  hah1 ;  catching  her  arm,  I 
exclaimed : 

"  Tell  me  instantly  what  you  mean !" 

"Oh,  Miss!"  she  whispered,  white  and  trembling,  "that 
hand,  that  awfal  hand  !  It  was  colder  -than  any  stone,  and 
sent  a  chill  through  me  when  I  touched  it ;  I  never,  never 
can  " 

"  You  foolish  girl,"  I  exclaimed,  impatiently,  "  I  didn't 
think  you  were  so  silly  " 

But  at  that  moment  some  one  knocked  at  the  door,  and 
Kitty,  wiping  her  eyes  and  smoothing  her  hair,  ran  to  open 
it.  It  was  only  Mary,  with  some  coal ;  but  it  interrupted 
our  conversation,  which  could  only  after  that  be  resumed 
by  broken  snatches,  wherein  I  urgently  impressed  upon 
Kitty  my  certainty  of  the  miniature's  being  in  possession  of 
one  or  other  of  the  parties  in  the  room  at  the  time  of  its 
disappearance,  and  the  entire  contempt  in  which  I  held  her 
superstitious  theory  in  regard  to  it.  Kitty's  belief  on  that 
point,  however,  could  not  be  shaken,  and  I  grew  weary  of 
reiterating  my  arguments.  At  last  I  found  an  opportunity* 
when  we  were  alone,  to  propound  another  question : 

"  What  has  been  done  about  the  riding-skirt  ?" 

"  Oh,  Miss,"  exclaimed  Kitty,  uneasily,  "  why  do  you 
worry  about  those  things  now  ?  It  will  make  your  head 
ache  to  talk ;  I  know  master  wouldn't  like  it." 

Kitty  soon  saw  the  futility  of  attempting  to  evade  the 
matter  ;  so  she  gave  me  a  plain  commonsensical  statement 
of  affairs,  commencing  from  the  moment  I  dashed  down  the 
avenue  on  Madge  Wildfire's  back;  from  which  time  it 
appeared,  her  difficulties  began.  Mrs.  Roberts,  after 
watching  us  out  of  the  gate,  the  storm  on  her  brow  blacken 
ing  every  instant,  turned  away  with  a  determined  step 


156  KUTLEDGE. 

and  entering  the  house,  called  to  Kitty,  saying  she  was  ia  a 
great  hurry  for  the  dress  she  had  given  her  to  o^ss  cff; 
she  had  important  business  at  the  Parsonage,  and  there  was 
no  time  to  lose. 

"  I  don't  think  you'll  find  Mr.  Shenstone  Lome,  ma'am," 
Kitty  had  volunteered.  "  I  saw  him  passing  alocg  the  road 
toward  Norbury,  when  I  was  down  at  the  lodge  half  an 
hour  ago." 

This  information  had  appeared  to  give  great  disquietude 
to  Mrs.  Roberts,  and  in  consequence  of  it,  she  had  given  up 
her  plan  of  going  out,  and  had  retired  inisanthropically  to 
her  room,  while  Kitty  had  danced  down  to  the  kitchen  in 
great  glee,  to  communicate  to  Sylvie  her  narrow  escape. 
But  in  half  an  hour,  Mrs.  Roberts'  bell  rang  hastily,  and 
Kitty  apprehensively  went  up  to  answer  it. 

"  I  have  concluded,  after  all,"  said  that  lady,  "  to  go 
to  the  Parsonage,  and  leave  a  note  for  Mr.  Shenstone  if 
he  is  not  in;  so  get  my  dress  for  me  as  quickly  as  you 
can." 

"  Yes,  ma'am,"  Kitty  had  answered ;  but  in  passing  the 
window,  she  had  cast  a  look  out.  "  It's  most  five  o'clock 
now,  ma'am,  you'll  be  caught  out  in  the  dark;  hadn't 
Thomas  better  run  down  with  the  note  for  you  ?  Or  maybe 
I  could  go  ?" 

But  Mrs.  Roberts  was  quite  firm.  "  No,  she  did  not  care 
to  trust  to  any  one  but  herself  in  this  case."  And  again  she 
desired  her  to  get  the  dress  with  all  haste.  Haste  she  cer 
tainly  did  make,  in  getting  to  the  kitchen  and  calling 
Sylvie  into  consultation ;  which  measure,  however,  did  not 
tend  to  elucidate  in  any  great  degree  the  problem  that  at 
present  perplexed  her  brain.  Sylvie  was  one  of  the  "raving 
distracted  "  kind,  and  invariably  lost  her  wits  on  occasion 
of  their  being  particularly  required,  and  the  only  assistance 
she  attempted  to  render,  in  this  trying  emergency,  was 
ejaculatory  and  interjectional  condolence  on  the  apparent 
hopelessness  of  the  case.  Kitty  in  oisgustj  dammed  the 


BTJTLEDGE.  157 

door  m  ner  face,  put  her  hands  to  her  head  in  a  wild  way 
for  a  moment,  then  bounded  upstairs  again. 

"  Oh,  dear  Mrs.  Roberts,"  she  exclaimed,  as  she  entered 
the  room,  "  it  struck  me  on  my  way  down,  that  perhaps 
you'd  rather  wear  your  old  black  silk  instead  of  that  nice 
bombazine,  as  it  is  getting  so  late,  and  the  road  is  so  dusty 
We  haven't  had  rain,  you  know,  for  an  age." 

Mrs.  Roberts  drew  herself  up.  Was  she  or  was  uhe  not 
capable  of  judging  what  clothes  she  was  to  put  on  ?  Would 
it  be  necessary  for  her  to  go  down  and  get  the  diess  she 
wanted  herself? 

"  By  no  means,"  Kitty  said ;  and  starting  forth  again,  sat 
herself  down  on  the  third  step  of  the  stairs,  in  direst  per 
plexity.  But  time  pressed  ;  there  was  no  leisure  fot  delibe 
ration.  She  flew  to  a  closet  where  some  superainuated 
garments  of  the  housekeeper's  hung,  selected  the  most  pre 
sentable  of  the  series  of  black  bombazine  skirts  suspended 
in  funereal  rows  upon  the  pegs ;  darted  back,  and  with  great 
composure,  laid  it  on  the  sofa,  while,  with  officious  zeal,  she 
proceeded  to  divest  Mrs.  Roberts  of  her  house-costume,  and 
invest  her  with  her  walking-dress.  By  skillfully  interposing 
her  person  between  the  dress  and  the  strong  light,  and 
putting  it  on  and  arranging  it  entirely  with  her  own  hands, 
she  escaped  detection.  And  arrayed  in  this  ancient  gar 
ment,  the  housekeeper  sallied  forth  on  her  way  to  the 
Parsonage. 

Too  anxious  to  be  triumphant  this  time,  Kitty  stole  out 
after  her,  to  see  the  effect  of  the  sunlight  upon  the  foxy, 
faded  black;  but  Mrs.  Roberts  was  too  much  engrossed 
with  cankering  cares  of  a  sterner  kind,  to  think  of  her 
bombazine. 

At  the  gate,  however,  to  her  great  content,  she  encoun 
tered  Mr.  Shenstone  on  his  way  from  Norbury,  and  stop 
ping  him,  held  a  long  and  anxious  consultation  with  him 
(in  which,  said  Kitty, par parenth&se,  "I  overheard  her  saj 
some  pretty  things  about  you ;.  but  no  matter)."  Sh« 


158  BUT  LEDGE. 

parted  from  the  clergyman,  and  returned  slowly  toward  the 
House,  Kitty  following  anxiously  behind  the  hedge.  The 
setting  sun  threw  the  most  dazzling  beams  down  the  ave 
nue.  Kitty's  heart  beat,  as  she  saw  the  housekeeper  cast 
her  eyes  meditatively  upon  her  dress ;  then,  as  the  sun 
light  struck  full  upon  it,  she  stooped  a  little  down,  and 
paused,  and  looked  again,  and  again  adjusted  her  glasses. 
She  began,  in  truth,  to  "  smell  a  rat,"  for  passing  her  hand 
rapidly  over  the  front  breadth,  she  shook  her  head  doubt- 
ingly,  then  lifted  the  suspicious  garment  to  the  sunlight, 
then  holding  it  at  arms'  length,  uttered  an  exclamation  of 
surprise,  turned  it  up,  and  examining  the  hem  all  around, 
dropped  it ;  turned  the  pocket  inside  out — felt  of  the  band 
around  the  waist — recognized  its  unfamiliarit'y — and  with  a 
low  muttering  of  suppressed  wrath,  gathered  herself  up,  and 
hastened  toward  the  house. 

"  It's  all  up  !"  groaned  poor  Kitty,  as,  by  the  back  wa^, 
she  darted  into  the  kitchen,  and  awaited  with  trembling 
the  pull  of  Mrs.  Roberts'  bell. 

"  Kitty  Carter,"  said  Mrs.  Roberts,  in  an  awful  voice,  as 
she  entered  the  room,  "  you  have  been  practising  upon  me 
in  an  abominable  manner.  I  have  borne  your  saucy  ways  for 
a  long  time,  but  the  end  has  now  come.  You  can't  deceive 
me  ;  I'm  too  quick  for  you,  and  you  shall  be  exposed.  It's 
my  intention  to  make  Mr.  Rutledgc  acquainted  with  your 
deceitful  practices ;  and  that,  you  are  aware,  is  just  the 
same  as  giving  you  warning  ;  for  Mr.  Rutledge  has  never 
been  known  to  endure  anything  of  the  kind  in  his  house." 

Kitty  quailed  under  this  attack  ;  but,  rallying  in  a 
moment,  asked  Mrs.  Roberts  if  she'd  please  tell  her  what 
was  the  matter  ?  Her  answer  was  a  peremptory  ordor  to 
bring  up  the  dress  she  had  given  her  in  the  morning.  For 
once  in  her  life,  Kitty  had  nothing  to  say ;  while  Mrs. 
Roberts  exclaimed : 

"  It's  my  belief,  Kitty  Carter,  that  dress  is  lying  where  I 
put  it  thi0  morning,  and  that  you  haven't  touched  it." 


BUTLEDGE.  159 

"I  wish  from  my  soul  I  hadn't,"  thought  the  unlucky 
girl. 

"  Now  go  down  this  moment  and  fetch  it  to  me,  finished 
or  unfinished,  or  you  forfeit  your  place." 

The  only  way  that  opened  for  Kitty,  was  to  assume  a 
position,  good  or  bad,  and  maintain  it  through  thick  and 
thin.  Therefore,  with  staunch  determination,  she  replied  : 

"  I  have  not  done  the  dress,  ma'am  ;  I  didn't  think  you'd 
want  it  so  soon  ;  and  I  had  rather  not  bring  it  up  till  it's 
finished." 

"  This  minute,  or  you  lose  your  place,"  said  the  exaspe 
rated  housekeeper. 

Kitty  respectfully  resisted  the  demand ;  it  was  contrary 
to  her  principles  to  give  up  work  half  finished.  If  Mrs. 
Roberts  would  give  her  time,  she  would  do  it  ;  but 
before  the  dress  was  in  order,  she  must  decline  bringing  it  up. 

Then  the  storm  burst  in  all  its  fury.  Sylvie  was  called 
up ;  Mrs.  Roberts  made  a  descent  in  person  upon  the 
kitchen,  which  was  placed  under  martial  law,  Thomas  and 
two  of  the  stable-boys  guarding  the  different  entrances, 
while  Dorothy  and  one  of  the  farm-hands  accompanied 
Mrs.  Roberts  in  her  inquisitorial  progress  through  the 
lower  departments.  Altogether,  such  a  tragedy  had  -not 
convulsed  the  basement  of  Rutledge  for  many  a  long  year  -, 
not,  indeed,  since  the  pranks  of  Kitty's  childhood  had  been 
the  scandal  of  the  place.  Kitty  remembered  with  comfort, 
that  she  had  weathered  more  than  one  storm  there ;  and 
remembering  this,  took  heart  again,  though,  it  must  be  con 
fessed,  things  looked  black  enough.  The  dress  not  being 
and  appearing  anywhere,  "  from  gai-ret  to  basement," 
Kitty  Carter  was  formally  pronounced  suspended  from  her 
duties,  until  such  time  as  Mr.  Rutledge,  being  informed  of 
her  ofiences,  should  himself  dismiss  her  from  the  house. 

To  that  dark  crisis  had  succeeded  the  alarm  produced  by 
the  non-appearance  of  the  equestrian  party  ;  then  the  con- 
Bternation  consequent  upon  the  arrival  of  Michael,  several 


160  RUTLEDGE. 

hours  later,  announcing  that  the  young  lady  had  been  los? 
hunted  for,  and  found,  by  all  the  men  in  the  village,  and 
was  now  lying,  half  dead,  at  the  Parsonage ;  and,  finally, 
that  by  order  of  Mr.  Rutledge,  Kitty,  her  maid,  was  to 
repair  thither  immediately  to  attend  upon  her.  This  mate 
rially  changed  the  look  of  affairs ;  and  it  was  hoped,  by 
he  anti-administration  party,  that  the  storm  had  blown 
ver,  and,  in  the  new  excitement,  would  be  forgotten.  But 
such  hopes  were  futile  indeed,  and  entertained  by  weak 
minds,  not  capable  of  sounding  the  depths  of  a  resentment 
tmch  as  rankled  in  Mrs.  Roberts'  recollection.  The  very 
next  day,  in  a  solemn  interview  in  the  library,  Mr.  Rut- 
ledge  was  informed  of  the  nature  of  the  complaint  against 
Kitty,  and  distinctly  declared,  that  unless  the  matter  was 
very  shortly  cleared  up,  he  should  be  under  the  necessity 
of  dismissing  her  from  his  service.  And  this  sword  was 
now  hanging  over  poor  Kitty's  head;  and  Kitty's  stout 
heart  was  sinking  at  the  prospect  of  the  only  punishment 
that  could  have  had  much  terror  for  her ;  for  Rutledge  was 
the  only  home  she  had  ever  known,  and  the  only  place  she 
loved. 

"  But  it  doesn't  signify,"  she  said  bravely,  dashing  away  a 
furtive  tear ;  "  I  can  get  another  place,  and  I'll  look  out 
that  there's  no  Mrs.  Roberts  in  the  family." 

"  But,  Kitty,"  I  exclaimed,  "  why  didn't  you  tell  ?  Mr 
Kutledge  would  have  overlooked  it,  I  know." 

"  What,  tell!"  cried  Kitty,  scornfully,  "and  get  yo;<  into 
trouble,  too  ?  No,  indeed,  I  know  Mr.  Rutledge  well 
enough  to  know  he'd  have  been  angry  with  you  as  well  as 
with  me ;  and  if  you  take  my  advice,  Miss,  you  won't  say  a 
word  about  it.  One's  enough  to  take  the  blow ;  it  won't 
make  it  any  easier  to  have  another  getting  it  too.  Just  let 
the  matter  stand  as  it  is ;  it  will  be  all  right.  There,  don't 
fret!"  she  exclaimed,  cheerfully;  "it  worries  me  to  death  to 
see  you  mind  it  so !  Why,  Miss,  it's  nothing ;  how  need 
yon  care  ?" 


RUTLEDG  E.  161 

"  But,  Kitty,"  I  exclaimed,  clinging  to  a  last  hope,  ;'  was 
the  dress  much  spoiled  ?" 

"  Oh  dear,  yes !  muddied,  torn,  stained,  as  if  you'd  beeu 
dragged  through  the  streets  in  it."  Our  conversation  was 
again  abruptly  brought  to  a  close  by  the  advent  of  Mary, 
this  time  with  a  message  to  Kitty  from  Mrs.  Arnold,  desir 
ing  her  help  downstairs. 

And  again,  turning  my  face  to  the  pillow,  with  a  miser 
able  sigh,  I  was  left  alone. 


CHAPTER  XH. 

'  The  very  gentlest  of  all  human  natures 

He  joined  to  courage  strong, 
And  love  outreaching  unto  all  God's  creaturei, 
With  sturdy  hate  of  wrong." 

WHITTIEK. 

was  closing  in,  and  filling  the  little  room  wnere 
I  lay  with  fitful  shadows,  which  the  tiny  blaze  of  fire  in  the 
grate  was  incompetent  to  dispel.  If  it  had  been  possible 
for  me  to  be  more  miserable  than  I  had  been  all  day,  I 
should  indeed  have  "loathed  the  hour"  when  gloom  and 
darkness  so  palpably  and  hopelessly  descend,  but  the  climax 
of  misery  and  self-reproach  had  been  reached  by  daylight, 
and  outward  dreariness  could  only  increase,  in  a  very  slight 
degree,  the  inward  gloom.  The  faults  I  had  been  guilty  of, 
and  the  errors  into  which  I  had  led,  or  allowed  Kitty  to  go, 
seemed  to  me,  and  justly,  the  first  steps  in  a  most  dangerous 
path.  I  fully  realized  the  sins,  and  their  effect  upon  my 
conscience,  apart  from  their  consequences  and  punishment. 
These  last,  I  was  aware,  were  hard  enough.  I  knew  I  had 
done  what  must  lower  me  in  Mr.  Rutledge's  esteem ;  to  be 
the  accomplice  in  a  deception,  however  slight,  was  to  sink 
just  that  much  in  his  regard,  whose  rigid  truthfulness  and 
honor  were  offended  by  the  least  prevarication.  I  knew  I 
had  given  Mrs.  Roberts  grounds  for  all  her  former  distrust 
and  aversion,  and  placed  myself  lower  than  she  could  have 
estimated  me.  Above  all,  poor  Kitty  was  the  victim  on 
whom  it  fell  hardest,  and  how  much  of  the  blame  of  not 
checking  her  or  guiding  her  right  lay  on  my  shoulders,  I 
dared  not  think.  I  was  really  attached  to  the  brave,  quick 
witted  girl,  and  remembered,  with  humiliation,  how  igno. 

162 


RtTTLEDGE.  163 

rant  and  untaught  she  was,  and  how  naturally  and  unavoid 
ably  her  faults  were  the  results  of  her  unguided  impetuosity, 
while  mine  were  committed  in  the  light  of  an  instructed 
conscience  and  educated  intellect. 

But  with  me  to  suffer  pain,  was  to  seek  some  cure  for  it. 
My  repentances  were  not  often  fruitless ;  I  could  no  more 
have  lain  there,  and  endured  that  self-reproach,  without 
resolving  on  some  wray  to  allay  it,  than  I  could  have  sub 
mitted  to  a  dagger  in  my  breast  without  attempting  to  draw 
it  out.  The  only  remedy  I  could  see,  was  painful  enough 
but  there  was  no  help  for  it. 

"  Mrs.  Arnold,"  I  implored,  "  do  put  down  your  work, 
and  come  and  sit  by  me  ;  I  want  to  ask  you  something." 

Mrs.  Arnold  left  her  seat  by  the  window,  and  laying 
down  the  knitting  that  her  rapid  fingers  plied  alike  through 
daylight  and  darkness,  came  to  my  bedside  and  sat  down. 
She  saw  I  was  excited  and  feverish,  and  in  her  gentle  way 
stro-ve  to  soothe  and  amuse  me.  She  talked  of  a  great 
many  things  about  the  parish  that  she  thought  might  inte 
rest  me — of  the  school  children,  and  the  Christmas  festivities 
that  were  preparing,  and  in  some  way  Rutledge  was  spoken 
of,  and  its  dullness  and  gloominess. 

"  But  I  don't  think  it's  gloomy  in  the  least,"  I  said  ;  "  I 
think  it's  the  most  beautiful  place  I  ever  was  in  in  my  life. 
Don't  you  think  it's  delightful  ?" 

"  I  used  to  think  so,"  she  said,  sadly. 

"  Have  you  been  there  lately  ?"  I  demanded. 

"  Never  since  I  left  it  first,"  she  answered,  musingly. 

"  Then  you  lived  there  once  ?" 

She  assented  half  unconsciously. 

"  What  were  you  ?"  I  asked,  very  suddenly ;  "  were  you 
kousekeeper  ?" 

"  No,  I  was  governess,  Miss,"  she  answered ;  then 
started,  as  if  she  had  said  more  than  she  had  intended,  and 
hastily  turned  the  conversation  to  something  else.  But  I 
could  not  so  quickly  turn  my  thoughts.  This  woman,  thep, 


164  RUTLEDGE. 

who  tended  me,  with  sad,  soft  eyes  and  voict,,  had  beeii  the 
governess  and  companion  of  Alice — had  known  from  the 
beginning  the  storm  that  had  burst  over  Rut! edge,  and  was 
nerself,  perhaps,  involved  in  this  dark  story  of  the  past,  that 
was  meeting  me  at  every  turn.  The  miniature*  would  have 
startled  her,  perhaps,  if  she  could  have  seen  it.  What  if  she, 
in  reality ^  had  it  now,  and  hers  was  the  cold  hand  upon  my 
breast  that  had  seized  it  ?  But  no  ;  Kitty  was  sure  it  was 
not.  And  then  my  thoughts  reverted  to  my  own  remorse 
and  trouble  that  had  only  been  momentarily  lulled  by  Mrs. 
Arnold's  conversation.  There  was  a  pause  just  then,  and 
raising  myself  on  my  elbow,  I  said,  looking  intently  at  my 
companion : 

"  Mrs.  Arnold,  did  you  ever  confess  a  sin  to  Mr.  Shen- 
stone,  and  ask  counsel  of  him  when  you  were  very 
miserable  ?" 

At  my  words,  Mrs.  Arnold  gave  a  start ;  but  recovering 
herself,  she  said,  in  a  voice  somewhat  agitated : 

"  Why  do  you  ask  me  such  a  question  ?" 

"  Because,"  I  said,  too  much  absorbed  in  my  own  trouble 
to  heed  her  agitation,  "  because  I  am  very  miserable,  and 
don't  know  exactly  what  to  do;  I  am  sure  he  is  the  onty  one 
who  can  help  me,  and  I  must  tell  him  before  I  sleep  to-night, 
if  only  I  can  get  the  courage  !  Oh,  Mrs.  Arnold !  tell  me, 
is  he  very  severe  ?  Or  will  he  be  kind — and  would  you 
dare,  if  you  were  me  ?" 

"  I  cannot  tell  what  trouble  you  have  on  your  mind,  but 
I  can  answer  for  it,  if  human  help  can  lighten  it,  Mr.  Shen- 
Btone  will  give  you  all  the  help  he  can.  And  if  it  is  but 
between  you  and  heaven,  he  will  show  you  the  wray  to  get 
at  peace.  Oh,  my  dear  young  lady !  you  need  not  be  afraid 
to  open  your  heart  to  one  who  knows  so  much  about  God's 
mercy  and  men's  sins.  You  need  not  be  afraid  but  that  ho 
will  be  as  tender  as  he  is  wise ;  indeed,  you  need  not  fear 
him." 

She  spoke  rapidly  and  earnestly ;  her  whole  manner  of 


K  tJ  T  L  E  D  G  E  .  165 

precision  and  composure  seemed  to  be  broken  clown  and 
melted  before  some  recollection  that  my  trouble  seemed  to 
recall.  I  laid  my  burning  hand  in  hers,  and  said  with  a  sigh  : 

"Oh,  if  I  only  dared!" 

"  But  why  should  you  fear  ?"  she  continued,  earnestly. 
"  Why  should  you  fear,  when  I  tell  you  that  he  has  only 
kindness  and  pity  in  his  heart — that  he  has  looked  with  for 
bearance  and  compassion  on  blacker  sins  than  ever  stained 
your  young  soul ;  and  when  I  tell  you — for  I  have  reason 
to  know — that  he  can  bring  light  out  of  darkness,  and  can 
show  a  \vay  of  peace  to  even  the  most  tortured  and  des 
pairing.  Tt  may,"  she  continued,  "  be  but  a  very  little  sin 
that  is  weighing  on  y6*u,  and  turning  you  out  of  the  right 
way ;  but  from  little  sins  grow  heavy  punishments,  and 
better  find  now  the  best  way  of  putting  it  out  of  your  heart, 
and  piitting  something  good  in  its  stead.  You  have  ah1  life 
before  you,"  she  said,  with  a  weary  sigh,  "  and  repentance- 
is  easier  and  more  hopeful  work,  than  it  is  to  come  back, 
when  one  has  spent  one's  inheritance  of  life  in  sin,  having 
nothing  to  offer  heaven  but  fruitless  tears." 

Her  voice  trembled  with  emotion ;  she  looked  pityingly 
at  me  as,  struggling  to  keep  back  my  tears,  I  hid  my  face 
in  the  pillow,  and  caressing  the  hand  that  still  lay  in  hers, 
she  went  on  to  persuade  me  to  the  only  remedy  she  knew 
for  my  unhappiness.  I  still  felt  shudderingly  afraid  to  make 
the  dreadful  effort,  and  faltered  something  about  my  fear  of 
his  goodness  and  superiority,  and  the  contempt  he  would 
feel  for  me  when  he  knew  how  weak  and  sinful  I  had  been. 

"  Would  it  give  you  courage,"  she  said,  in  a  low  tone, 
"  to  know  how  he  once  received  the  repentance  of  a  very 
miserable  woman — a  woman  who  had  not  only  sinned 
against  heaven,  but  against  him — who  had  done  more  than 
any  one  else  to  blight  his  happiness  and  make  his  life  deso 
late,  but  who,  having  met  the  due  reward  of  her  deeds, 
came  back  to  die  in  misery  where  she  had  failed  to  live  ii. 
innocence  ?  Shall  I  tell  you  of  tbis?" 


166  R  U  T  L  E  D  G  E  . 

I  whispered  "  Yes,"  and  she  went  on  in  a  low  voice 
"  It  is  no  matter  what  the  sins  were  that  brought  me  to 
the  misery  I  shall  tell  you  of;  it  is  no  matter  whether  they 
were  committed  for  myself,  or  for  the  love  of  one  whom  I 
would  have  died  to  serve  ;  it  is  no  matter  for  me  to  tell  you 
that  they  grew  from  little  unchecked  thoughts  of  pride  and 
self-will,  and  little  half-intended  acts  of  deception,  into  the 
monster  sins  that  overshadowed  my  life  ;  it  is  enough  that 
I  had  come  to  the  recompense  of  them — that  in  remorse,  in 
utter  consternation,  I  mourned  as  one  without  hope.  What 
did  I  know  of  hope  ?  Six  feet  of  foreign  mound  covered 
the  remains  of  her  I  had  served  and  sinned  for.  Shame 
and  infamy  covered  her  name  ;  hope  Avas  dead  in  my  heart ; 
faith  had  never  been  lit  there.  Alone  in  a  land  of  strangers, 
there  was  but  one  longing  in  my  breast  that  exceeded  the 
desire  for  death,  and  that  was  the  craving  to  see  home 
again.  It  makes  me  shudder  even  now  to  recall  that  jour 
ney — weary  months 'of  fatigue,  and  exposure  and  misery ;  the 
only  thought  that  kept  me  up,  a  dreary  one  at  best,  to  see 
home  once  more,  and  die  before  a  word  of  reproach  could 
stab  me,  or  a  familiar  voice  recall  the  wretched  past. 

"  It  was  a  still,  clear  December  night,  when,  footsore  and 
weary,  I  saw,  with  a  strange  thrill,  the  lights  of  a  little  vil 
lage,  that  my  heart  told  me  was  the  little  village  I  had 
come  thousands  of  miles  to  see,  and  that  I  had  not  seen  no/ 
heard  from  since  my  guilty  flight,  long  years  ago,  on  a  De 
cember  night,  still  and  cold  as  this.  I  hurried  on,  my  sink 
ing  strength  nerved  up  for  a  last  effort,  till  I  should  reach 
a  woody  knoll  I  knew  overlooked  the  village,  and  there,  I 
said,  I  will  die.  In  my  hand  I  held  what  I  knew  would 
free  me ;  I  had  carried  it  in  my  bosom  for  months  and 
months,  only  waiting  for  this  moment.  At  last  I  reached 
the  spot,  and  sinking  down  on  the  hard  ground,  covered  my 
face  a  moment  with  my  hands,  then  looked  down  upon  the 
scene  before  me.  There  lay  the  village,  its  white  houses 
gleaming  in  the  moonlight — there  the  familiar  road 


KUTLEDGE.  167 

round  the  foot  of  the  hill — there  was  the  broad  street,  the 
old  mill,  the  placid  lake  in  the  distance,  and  beyond  it,  clear 
against  the  sky,  the  dark  outlines  of  Rutledge  ;  massive, 
and  gloomy,  and  lifeless,  it  stood  far  off  from  the  cheery 
village,  with  its  animation  and  content.  Not  a  window  of 
the  little  hamlet  but  showed  a  kindly  light,  while  the  great 
house  beyond  was  dark  and  silent — not  a  gleam  of  light 
from  all  its  sombre  front.  A  horror  and  remorse  that  you 
cannot  understand  came  over  me,  such  as  I  had  thought 
my  dead  heart  was  incapable  of  harboring ;  then  despair 
settled  on  it  again,  and  I  prepared  for  death.  But  as  I  was 
looking — and  I  was  not  dreaming — between  the  desolate 
house  and  me,  distinct  against  the  dark  woods,  there  shone 
out  a  silver  cross.  I  was  not  dreaming — -I  was  terribly 
awake  ;  but  there  it  glittered,  still  and  bright.  Not  a  sound 
broke  the  stillness  of  the  frosty  air,  not  another  feature  in 
the  landscape  changed ;  I  strained  my  eyes  to  catch  the  least 
wavering  or  fading  of  the  distinct  lines,  but  calm  and  clear 
the  holy  sign  still  lit  the  dark  stretch  of  woodland  between 
me  and  Rutledge,  and  never  wavered  or  faded.  I  was  not 
superstitious,  but  this  came  to  me  like  a  token  from  heaven, 
and  I  held  the  fatal  vial  unopened  in  my  hand.  What  if 
this  was  meant  to  tell  me  there  was  forgiveness  yet — that 
that  there  was  a  sanctifying  calm  even  over  the  cold  deso 
lation  of  that  dark  house — that  the  sins  were  done  away, 
and  that  mercy  had  shone  out.  With  that  sign  before  me, 
I  did  not  dare  to  add  that  one  sin  more  to  those  I  had 
already  committed  ;  I  did  not  dare  to  die  by  my  own  hand. 
And  then  a  desire  took  possession  of  me  to  know  something 
of  what  had  passed  in  all  these  years,  or  if  there  was,  indeed, 
none  remaining  to  loathe  and  execrate  me.  And  finally, 
hiding  the  vial  in  my  bosom,  I  crept  down,  and  keeping 
my  eye  still  fixed  on  the  shining  cross,  I  turned  into  the 
broad  street  that  led  to  the  village.  One  after  another  oi 
the  ciieerfnl  lights  I  passed,  not  daring  to  go  in,  pausing 
before  each  gate,  and  then  hurrying  on,  determined  to  try 


168  KUTLEDGE. 

the  next.  By  and  by,  the  cross  was  lost  among  the  trees, 
and  my  courage  began  to  fail,  when,  on  a  sudden,  I  found 
myself  at  the  gate  of  a  church-yard,  and  looking  up,  saw, 
what  was  most  unexpected  and  unfamiliar,  the  arches  and 
spire  of  a  little  church,  on  the  site  of  the  neglected  old 
graveyard  I  remembered  ;  and  there,  above  it,  gleamed  the 
cross  that  had  stayed  my  hand  from  suicide,  which,  catching 
the  rays  of  the  rising  moon,  had  shone  out  with  such  a  mes 
sage  of  mercy. 

"  I  opened  the  little  gate,  and  stealing  across  the  church 
yard,  bent  down  to  read  the  names  upon  the  graves  that 
hud  been  made  since  I  had  been  away.  I  mournfully  traced 
out  one  familiar  name  after  another,  till,  with  a  groan,  I 
turned  away  from  the  gloomy  spot,  and  shutting  the  gate, 
struck  off  into  the  road  again.  I  dragged  on,  till  I  reached 
the  outskirts  of  the  village,  then  sat  down  to  rest.  A 
single  light,  at  a  little  distance,  shone  from  a  cottage  on  the 

DO*  7  O 

edge  of  the  woods,  that  I  knew  bordered  Rutledge  Park. 
A  boy  passed  by  me,  and  summoning  courage,  I  stopped 
him,  and  asked  him  what  house  that  was.  '  Thf  Parson 
age,'  he  said.  And  there,  I  thought,  is  .where  I  will  go,  and 
hear,  perhaps,  whether  there  is  any  hope  for  such  as  me  in 
either  world.  When  I  reached  the  low  gate  of  the  garden 
in  front  of  it,  I  did  not  allow  myself  time  to  think,  but 
walked  down  the  path,  and  stepping  on  the  little  porch, 
knocked  faintly  at  the  door.  The  blinds  of  the  window 
where  the  light  was,  being  open,  I  looked  in,  and  saw  the 
only  occupant  of  it,  who  had  been  reading  by  the  lamp  on 
the  table,  rise  to  answer  my  knock. 

"  '  Can  I  see  the  clergyman  ?'  I  asked,  in  a  low  voice. 

"  '  Come  in,  this  way,'  he  said,  kindly,  leading  the  way  to 
the  room  he  had  left ;  '  I  am  the  clergyman.' 

"  He  told  me  to  sit  down  by  the  fire,  and  then,  in  a  tone- 
that  moved  me  strangely,  asked  if  he  could  help  or  direct 
me  in  any  way. 

''  I  was  too  near  the  gate  of  death  to  see  in  him  anything 


BUT  LEDGE.  169 

but  the  minister  of  God ;  and,  forgetting  that  he  was  a 
man  and  a  stranger,  began  in  a  broken,  husky  voice,  the 
recital  of  the  doubts  and  the  despair  I  had  been  fighting 
with.  I  do  not  know  how  much  of  my  story  I  betrayed,  or 
what,  in  this  extremity  of  wretchedness,  I  said ;  but  paus 
ing  at  the  end,  and  frightened  by  his  silence,  I  raised  my 
eyes,  and  faltered : 

"  '  Would  God  have  mercy  after  that,  do  you  think  ?' 

"The  clergyman's  face  was  white  as  mine:  his  voice  shook 
as  he  said : 

"  '  If  He  has  let  you  live,  He  means  to  forgive  you,  you 
may  be  sure.' 

" '  He  has  let  me  live,'  I  said,  eagerly,  and  I  told  him  of 
the  cross  that  had  held  me  back  from  suicide.  He  pressed 
his  hand  before  his  eyes,  then  said,  after  a  moment,  in  a 
broken  voice : 

"  l  Take  it  for  a  sign,  then,  that  He  is  waiting  to  be 
gracious  ;  that  there  is  peace  on  earth,  as  well  as  mercy  in 
heaven,  for  you.' 

"  '  Never  peace ;  I  have  no  right  to  hope  for  that,  only  a 
chance  of  pardon  before  I  die.' 

"  'A  sure  hope  of  pardon,  if  you  verily  repent,  and  a  sure 
sense  of  peace,  if  you  strive  to  put  In  deeds,  the  repentance 
that  God  has  put  in  your  heart.' 

"  '  There  is  nothing  left  in  life  for  me  to  do,'  I  said,  witli 
a  bitter  sigh. 

"    So  I  thought  once,'  he  said,  '  but  I  have  learned  that 

O  *  ' 

God  never  leaves  a  soul  on  earth,  without  leaving  some 
work  for  it  to  do,  to  keep  it  from  despair,  some  sin  to  be 
atoned  for,  some  duty  to  be  fulfilled.  Can  you  think  of 
none  ?' 

"  '  Xone,'  I  said  ;  '  there  is  nothing  left  for  me,  my  re 
pentance  comes  too  late  ;  there  is  none  left  but  my  weary 
self,  to  profit  by  it.' 

"  '  There  is  a  work  I  know  of  waiting  for  you,  Rachel 
Arnold,'  he  said,  in  a  voice  that  thrilled  through  and 

8 


170 

through  me.  It  all  came  upon  me  then ;  with  a  low  cry, 
I  started  up  and  sprang  toward  the  door ;  but  he  interposed. 

"  '  Let  me  go,'  I  cried ;  '  I  cannot  face  you  in  this  world ! 
Wait,  before  you  bring  your  accusation,  till  we  are  at  God's 
tribunal !  Let  me  go,  and  I  will  never  offend  your  sight 
again.  Oh  !  why  are  you  not  dead,  like  all  the  rest  ?  "Why 
are  you  left  to  drive  me  back  to  despair  again  ?'  And  in 
an  agony  I  sank  down  at  his  feet. 

"  '  I  am  left,'  he  said,  raising  me  up, '  to  guide  you  back  to 
peace  and  duty ;  to  tell  you  of  God's  infinite  loving  kind 
ness,  and  to  show  you  how  mu.ch  of  hope  there  is  for  you, 
in  this  world  and  in  the  next ;  and  to  assure  you,  if  you 
need  the  assurance,  that  I  as  utterly  forgive  you,  as  I  hope 
for  God's  forgiveness  for  myself.' 

"  '  You  never  would  say  so,'  I  murmured,  '  if  you  knew 
all.' 

"  '  I  know  enough  to  understand  your  remorse  ;  the  rest 
you  can  tell  to  God ;  I  say  again,  from  my  soul,  I  forgive 
you.' 

"  But  I  never  raised  my  face,  nor  looked  at  him,  till  I  had 
told  him  all,  and  he  had  said  again : 

" '  With  all  my  heart  I  forgive  you.  The  past  is  can 
celled  ;  stay  here,  and  help  me  in  the  work  that  God  has 
set  us  to  do,  and  obliterate  the  sins  that  this  place  has  seen, 
by  faithful  striving  in  the  labor  of  restoring  it  to  hw 
service  again.' 

"  My  dear  young  lady,"  said  Mrs.  Arnold,  in  a  trambling 
voice,  "  can  you  fear  him  after  that  ?" 

"  No,"  I  exclaimed,  with  tears ;  "  let  me  see  hint*  now/' 


CHAPTER  XHI. 

"Hake  no  enemies ;  he  is  insignificant  indeed  than  can  do  thee  no  harm," 

LACON. 

"  WELL,"  says  Mrs.  Arnold,  with  an  inquiring  look,  aa 
she  was  preparing  to  leave  me  for  the  night,  "  was  I  right, 
or  do  you  feel  sorry  you  followed  my  advice  ?" 

"  Ah !  no,  indeed !"  I  exclaimed ;  "  it's  all  right  now !  I 
can  see  all  through  it,  and  I  am  so  much  happier !"  and  T 
took  her  hand  affectionately  as  she  left  me. 

It  was  all  right,  or  nearly  so.  I  had  found,  after  the  first 
awkwardness,  that  it  was  very  easy  to  tell  Mr.  Shenstone 
things  that  I  had  never  supposed  I  could  tell  to  any  one ;  there 
was  something  in  his  manner  that  divested  one  of  all  fear 
and  shyness,  and  suggested  only  the  interest  and  earnest 
ness  of  one  whose  highest  desire  it  was,  to  set  forward  in 
the  right  way,  all  who  were  faltering  and  uncertain.  He 
made  my  duty  very  clear,  and  gave  me  many  simple  sug 
gestions  that  I  wondered  I  had  never  thought  of  before. 
He  then  told  me  what  it  seemed  to*  him  I  ought  to  do. 
in  the  matter  of  remedying  the  mischief  I  had  caused. 
Acknowledging  my  fault  to  Mrs.  Roberts  in  person,  was  a 
very  humiliating,  but  a  very  wholesome  mortification,  and 
one  which  he  unhesitatingly  recommended.  And  the  re 
storation  to  her  of  a  dress  equally  as  valuable  as  the  one 
she  had  lost,  was  also  his  advice,  and,  if  it  shortened  uncom 
fortably  my  already  rather  scanty  supply  of  pocket-money, 
so  much  the  better  lesson  it  would  be.  He  would  himself 
undertake  acquainting  Mr.  Rutledge  with  the  circum 
stances,  and  representing  them  in  the  most  favorable  light. 
About  the  miniature  I  had  just  begun  to  toll  him,  intending 
*  in 


172  K  U  T  L   K  D  G  E  . 

to  say  as  much  as  I  could  without  implicating  Kitty,  when 
a  knock  at  the  door  interrupted  us,  and  "  the  doctor  "  was 
announced.  t  His  visit  was  not  quite  as  trying  as  it  had 
been  in  the  morning,  owing  to  the  increased  stock  of 
patience  and  good  resolutions  I  had  been  laying  in  since 
then ;  and  indeed,  they  continued  to  influence  my  endur 
ance  of  him  during  -the  daily  visits  that  he  inflicted  on  mt 
while  I  remained  at  the  Parsonage.  I  had  had  so  much  of 
the  effects  of  willfulness,  that  I  determined  never  to  be  self- 
willed  again,  and  not  so  much  as  to  ask  him  when  I  might 
go  back  to  Rutledge  ;  and  he,  if  v  his  part,  seemed  deter 
mined  not  to  volunteer  the  permission  till  I  should  ask 
for  it. 

But  the  matter  at  last  was  settled  by  Mr.  Shenstone,  who 
came  up  one  morning  while  the  doctor  was  with  me,  and 
said  he  had  just  received  a  note  from  Mr.  Rutledge,  saying 
that  from  the  account  the  doctor  had  given  him  of  me,  he 
should  fancy  I  was  well  enough  to  come  back,  and  if  the 
doctor's  permission  could  be  obtained,  he  would  send  the 
carriage  for  me  that  afternoon  at  four  o'clock.  I  looked  at 
the  doctor  with  breathless  interest ;  the  doctor  looked  at 
me  with  searching  curiosity,  while  he  said,  as  slowly  as  the 
occasion  permitted,  and  with  as  long  a  preface,  and  as  pro 
tracted  an  utterance  as  he  could  command : 

"  I  should  be  most  unwilling  to  be  the  cause  of  disap 
pointing  Mr.  Rutledge,  or  of  occasioning  any  vexation  to 
the  young  lady,  by  denying  the  permission  that  Mr.  Rut- 
ledge  seems  to  expect  and  desire  ;  though  I  am  certain,  he 
has  no  intention  of  influencing  my  decision  against  my 'better 
judgment,  or  of  inducing  me  to  say  anything,  that  in  my 
capacity  of  medical  adviser,  would  involve  any  departure 
from  strict  veracity  and  prudence.  I  am  aware  that  it.  is 
often  difficult  for  a  disinterested  party  to  resist  the  reason 
able  and  natural  desires  of  those  whose  judgments  are 
warped  by  their  wishes,  and  that  the  only  reward  the  con 
scientious  physician  gets,  in  such  cases,  is  the  aversion  and 


RTJTLEDGE.  172 

coldness  of  those  whose  good  he  is  most  interested  in.  In 
this  case,  however,  I  am  certain,  that  from  the  well-known 
good  sense  and  sagacity  of  Mr.  Rutledge,  and  the  unques 
tioned  amiability  of  the  young  lady,  I  should  nave  nothing 
to  fear." 

"  Then,"  said  Mr.  Shenstone,  kindly,  evidently  seeing  my 
anxiety,  and  wishing  to  put  an  end  to  it,  "  then  you  do  not 
consider  it  desirable  to  allow  the  change  ?" 

"  I  am  not  prepared  to  say  so,  entirely,"  he  answered  ; 
"  I  was  going  on  to  remark,  that  I  should  not  have  allowed 
any  of  the  considerations  I  mentioned  to  influence  me,  had  I 
really  deemed  it  imprudent  for  the  young  lady  to  leave  her 
present  residence.  But,  considering  her  rapid  convales 
cence,  and  the  mildness  of  the  day,  and  the  care  I  am  cer 
tain  will  be  taken  to  make  the  drive  an  easy  one,  and  the 
harm  which  a  disappointment  might  occasion  her,  I  think  I 
am  justified  in  according  my  consent  to  Mr.  Rutledge's 
arrangement." 

I  don't  think  I  could  have  endured  a  minute  more  of  this 
kind  of  suspense,  and  probably  the  doctor  knew  this,  and  so 
brought  his  discourse  to  a  termination,  after  having  tried 
my  nerves  as  long,  and  given  me  as  many  cuts,  as  he  con 
sidered  me  capable  of  enduring.  I  began  to  suspect, 
indeed,  that  he  had  perceived  my  aversion  to  him,  and  that 
in  a  quiet  and  unostentatious  manner,  he  returned  the  senti 
ment,  and  would  lose  no  occasion  of  letting  me  benefit  by  it. 
This  was  mere  conjecture,  however,  for  the  doctor's  manner 
was  as  assiduously  polite,  as  blandly  gallant  as  ever.  And 
indeed,  his  anxious  interest  would  not  suffer  him  to  allow 
me  to  go  unattended  toRutledge  ;  but  at  four  o'clock,  when 
I  was  bidding  adieu  to  Mr.  Shenstone,  and  being  seated 
comfortably  in  the  carriage  by  Mrs.  Arnold  and  Kitty,  the 
sorrel 'horse  and  shiny  gig  drew  up  beside  us,  and  in  an 
empresse  manner,  the  doctor  sprang  out,  and  in  his  own 
person  superintended  the  arrangements  for  my  comfort,  and 
declared  that  he  should  not,  fcpl  quite  easy  till  he  had  seeu 


174  KTJTLEDGE. 

me  safe  at  Rutledge ;  and  for  that  purpose,  as  "well  as  that 
of  paying  a  professional  visit  to  the  master  of  it,  he  should 
drive  on,  and  be  there  to  receive  us.  An  unconscious  tinge 
of  hauteur  was  all,  in  my  manner,  that  escaped  of  the  vex 
ation  I  felt  at  the  announcement. 

His  presence  altered  very  much  my  conduct  at  leaving 
the  Parsonage.  If  he  had  not  been  there,  I  am  sure  I 
should  have  managed  to  tell  Mr.  Shenstone  something  of 
the  gratitude  I  felt  for  the  unmerited  interest  in,  and  kind 
ness  toward  me,  that  he  had  shown ;  as  it  was,  I  could  only 
look  down,  and  appear  unspeakably  awkward,  at  his  kind, 
expressions  of  affection  and  regret,  as  he  said  good  bye. 
And,  instead  of  throwing  my  arms  around  Mrs.  Arnold's 
neck,  as  I  wanted  to  do,  and  telling  her  I  was  fonder  of  her 
than  of  almost  anybody  else  in  the  world,  and  that  I  should 
never  forget  her  care  and  goodness,  I  could  only,  with  that 
man  looking  on,  give  her  my  hand,  and  say  something  unin 
telligibly  about  coming  to  see  her  again  before  I  went  away. 
The  carriage  started,  and  the  gig  first  followed,  then  passed 
it,  and  by  the  time  we  reached  the  gate,  the  sorrel  horse 
was  standing  before  the  door,  and  the  sorrel  driver  thereof 
waiting  for  us,  in  company  with  Mr.  Rutledge  on  the 
steps. 

"  Now  Kitty,"  I  said,  as  we  drove  into  the  park,  "  now 
Kitty,  keep  your  courage  up.  Mr.  Shenstone  says  he  has 
seen  Mr.  Rutledge,  and  he  has  promised  to  excuse  you ;  all 
you  have  got  to  do  is  to  make  an  apology  to  Mrs.  Roberts, 
and  that's  nothing  !  Why,  I've  got  to  do  the  same  thing, 
and  you'll  see  how  brave  I'll  be  about  it." 

Kitty  shook  her  head  dejectedly.  "  I  never  hated  to  do 
anything  more." 

And  here  the  carriage  stopped,  and  Mr.  Rutledge  and  tho 
doctor  came  down  to  it.  "  Ah,"  said  the  former,  kindly, 
"  you  have  come  back  at  last.  I  did  not  know  whether  the 
doctor  and  Mrs.  Arnold  ever  meant  to  let  you  return  to 
Rutledge." 


RUTLEDGE.  175 

His  tone  was  kind — but — what  more  did  I  want  ?  I  did 
not  dare  to  ±ook  up ;  I  felt  Dr.  Hugh's  eyes  on  my  face,  and 
murmuring  some  broken  commonplace  about  being  happy 
to  be  back  again,  hurried  up  the  steps  and  into  the  house, 
Kitty  following  with  my  shawls  and  packages.  At  the 
head  of  the  stairs,  I  stopped  till  she  overtook  me,  and  tell 
ing  her  hastily  that  I  was  going  immediately  to  Mrs.  Roberts, 
and  she  must  give  me  the  package  that  contained  the  dress, 
and  be  ready  to  go  in,  and  make  her  apology  as  soon  as  I 
came  out,  I  left  her,  and  crossed  over  to  the  door  of  Mrs. 
Roberts'  room. 

It  was  a  mean  and  cowardly  thing  to  hope,  no  doubt,  but 
I  did,  notwithstanding,  most  ardently  desire  that  it  might 
so  happen  that  the  housekeeper  was  not  in  her  room,  and 
that  I  might  have  a  brief  respite  before  the  dreadful  pen* 
ance  was  undertaken,  and  in  that  hope  I  gave  an  undemon 
strative  knock,  to  which  Mrs.  Roberts'  voice  responded 
promptly,  "  Come  in."  Coming  in  was  an  easy  part  of  it ; 
walking  up  to  her  and  saying,  "  How  are  you  ?"  was  easy 
too ;  and  remarking,  "  I  am  better,  thank  you,"  was  the 
easiest  of  all.  But  after  that !  Standing  blankly  before 
that  rigid  black  bombazine  figure,  whose  bluish  lips  were 
obstinately  compressed,  and  whose  unsympathetic  eyes 
were  regarding  me  inquiringly,  it  was  anything  but  easy  to 
say  what  I  had  come  to  say — it  was  anything  but  pleasant 
to  remember  I  was  to  be  humble.  But  there  was  no  help 
for  it.  I  gulped  down  my  pride  and  aversion,  ar.d  simply 
and  honestly  told  my  story,  making  every  allowance  truth 
would  permit  me  for  Kitty,  putting  all  the  blame  that  was 
possible  on  myself,  making  no  cowardly  excuses,  and  no 
submissive  apologies,  but  telling  a  very  straightforward  and 
honest  story,  in  a  very  downright  and  unequivocal  manner, 
and  winding  up  with  a  request  that  she  would  consider  that 
I  regretted  my  share  in  the  business,  and  was  desirous  of 
making  her  every  amend  for  the  annoyance  and  inconve 
nience  I  had  occasioned  her.  No  other  course  could  have 


176  KUTLEDGK. 

been  as  well  calculated  to  mollify  Mrs  Roberts ;  any  undue 
humility  would  have  aroused  her  suspicions — the  least  at 
tempt  to  conciliate  her  would  have  settled  her  in  her  aver 
sion — the  smallest  parade  of  penitence  she  would  have 
stigmatized  as  hypocrisy ;  but  as  it  was,  she  was  met  on  hei 
own  ground,  and  could  do  nothing  but  yield,  in  an  ungra 
cious  manner,  an  ungracious  acknowledgment  of  my  honesty 
and  sincerity,  and  a  promise  to  consider  the  offence  atoned 
for.  I  put  the  package  down  on  the  table,  telling  her  what 
it  contained,  and  again  recommending  Kitty  to  her  mercy, 
turned  and  left  the  room. 

I  found  that  young  person  awaiting  me  in  an  unenviable 
state  of  mind.  I  told  her  I  should  never  have  the  least  re 
spect  for  her  again,  if  she  lost  her  courage  now,  and  then  I 
talked  to  her  a  little  d  la  Shenstone,  and  then  rallied  her  a 
little  d  la  myself,  and  finally  sent  her  off,  quite  staunch  again, 
to  meet  her  offended  mistress,  while  I  employed  the  time 
in  taking  off  my  bonnet  and  cloak,  and  arranging  the  dif 
ferent  articles  that  I  had  brought  back,  in  the  drawers. 

Despite  my  attempts  at  nonchalance,  I  felt  a  little  un> 
nappy.  1  did  not  yet  know  how  far  Mr.  Rutledge  had  put 
me  out  of  the  place  I  had  held  in  his  regard,  since  he  knew 
of  my  fault,  and  I  could  not  feel  quite  at  ease  till  I  heard 
my  pardon  from  his  own  lips. 

At  last  Kitty  returned,  looking  a  little  pale  and  agitated, 
but  acknowledging  that,  on  the  whole,  she  was  glad  she  had 
gone.  The  interview  had  been,  it  appeared,  rather  a  stir 
ring  one,  but  Kitty  had  kept  her  temper,  and  Mrs.  Roberts 
had,  at  last,  after  expending  her  wrath  upon  an  unresisting 
subject,  come  to  terms,  and  the  curtain  had  dropped  upon 
comparative  tranquillity.  Then  I  told  Kitty  we  must  have 
done  with  deceits,  little  and  great,  and  related  how  near  1 
had  come  to  telling  Mr.  Shenstone  about  the  miniature,  and 
that  I  meant  to  tell  him  the  very  first  chance,  or  else  Mr. 
Rutledge.  But  Kitty  fell  into  such  an  ecstasy  of  terror, 
and  with  such  vehement  tears  and  entreaties  besought  n»« 


RUTLEDGE.  177 

never  to  expose  her,  and  promised  such  eternal  devotion  to 
truth  henceforth,  if  I  would  only  spare  her  that  insupport 
able  mortification  and  disgrace,  that  at  last  I  yielded,  and, 
to  my  own  sorrow,  promised  to  hazard  no  attempt  to  clear 
up  that  mystery,  and  to  make  no  confessions  to  any  one  in 
regard  to  it. 

After  dressing  my  hair  and  arranging  the  room,  Kitty 
left  me,  and  I  sat  down  in  my  favorite  seat  in  the  bay  win 
dow,  with  the  double  purpose  of  whiling  away  the  time  and 
watching  for  the  doctor's  departure.  But  that  devoutly 
wished  consummation  did  not  crown  my  waiting  ;  moment 
after  moment  passed,  and  still  the  doctor  tarried,  and  at  last 
Thomas  came  out  and  led  the  sorrel  horse  away  to  the  stable. 

"  That  man's  going  to  stay  to  tea,  I  know,"  I  ejaculated, 
indignantly.  "  I've  a  great  mind  not  to  go  downstairs." 

The  unremunerative  policy,  however,  of  spiting  myself, 
had  early  been  impressed  on  me,  and  I  wisely  abandoned 
all  thought  of  pursuing  it,  and  reconciled  myself  to  the 
trial  with  all  possible  heroism.  I  should  not  go  down 
till  the  last  minute.  That  was  all  the  indignation  I  should 
indulge  in. 

Twilight  was  descending  fast ;  the  afternoon  had  not  been 
a  bright  one,  and  contrary  to  the  nature  of  such  things,  was 
particularly  short-lived.  There  was  a  light  streak  around 
the  horizon,  that  suggested  to  the  weather-wise  the  idea  of 
snow  impending ;  above,  and  all  over  the  rest  of  the  sky, 
there  was  nothing  to  relieve  the  dull  grey  hue.  The  line 
of  light  grew  narrower  and  narrower,  the  cold  grey  shroud 
settled  down  lower  and  heavier,  the  lake  and  lawn  grew 
more  and  more  indistinct,  the  shadows  thickened  within,  the 
darkness  increased  without,  and  imperceptibly  night  stole 
over  us,  and  still  I  sat  dreamily  by  the  window,  picturing  to 
myself  for  the  hundredth  time,  and  as  I  did  at  all  dreamy 
moments,  Rutledge  as  it  used  to  be — the  halls  filled  witl. 
servants,  the  rooms  with  guests ;  carriages  rolling  to  the 
door ;  music  and  laughter  echoing  through  the  house;  Aliw 


178  BUTLEDGE. 

lovely  and  admired  ;  Richard,  with  his  refined,  aristocratic 
face ;  and  the  young  Arthur,  as  the  sketch  he  gave  me,  had 
recorded  him.  Then  I  joined  to  this  links  that  I  had  caught 
from  Mrs.  Arnold's  broken  story ;  the  flight,  the  dreary  ex 
ile  in  a  foreign  land,  and  death  finishing  a  career  that 
infamy  and  shame  had  branded.  But  what  had  Mr.  Shen- 
stone  to  do  with  it  all  ?  Perhaps  he  had  loved  Alice ;  per 
haps  it  was  the  loss  of  her  that  was  the  terrible  trial  of 
which  he  had  spoken  to  Mr.  Rutledge  when  I  was  lying 
half  unconscious  in  the  study.  Then  I  tried  to  put  together 
more  of  what  I  had  then  heard  ;  but  the  more  I  pondered, 
the  more  confused  and  indistinct  it  all  grew,  and  ended  by 
bringing  up,  in  all  its  perplexity,  the  tormenting  mystery 
of  the  lost  miniature.  Why  must  I  be  so  baffled  about 
that  ?  Why  had  I  put  it  out  of  my  power,  by  my  promise 
t*  Kitty,  to  go  to  Mr.  Rutledge  honestly,  and  tell  him  the 
story,  and  ask  him  to  help  me  to  discover  wTho  had  taken 
it,  and  so  rid  my  fancy  of  the  hateful  idea  that  Kitty  had 
suggested,  which,  do  what  I  would,  had  come,  between 
sleeping  and  waking,  every  time  I  had  closed  my  eyes  since 
she  had  told  me  of  it.  In  the  dead  of  night,  the  cold  hand 
upon  my  bosom  would  wake  me  with  a  start ;  I  would  rea 
son  away  the  fright,  and  try  to  sleep  again,  but  as  soon  as 
unconsciousness  would  come,  the  chilling  horror  would  come 
tocv,  and  startle  me  into  sleepless  watching. 

L  despised  myself  for  the  folly  ;  but  I  had  begun  to  hate  the 
darkness.  Even  now,  the  dusky  thickening  twilight,  with 
its  creeping  shadows,  made  me  nervous ;  a  chill  seemed  to 
strike  to  my  very  heart,  and  I  caught  myself  starting  at  every 
sound,  and  trembling  at  every  flicker  of  the  dying  firelight. 

Under  these  circumstances,  the  hour  that  intervened  be 
tween  the  closing  in  of  twilight  and  the  ringing  of  the  tea- 
bell,  could  not  fail  to  be  a  very  long  and  uncomfortable  one, 
and  the  promptness  with  which  I  hurried  down  at  the  sum 
mons,  attested  my  preference  for  social  hours  and  habitf 
over  solitude  and  contemplation. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

•'  What !  old,  and  rich,  and  childless,  too. 
And  yet  believe  my  friends  are  true  ? 
Truth  might,  perhaps,  to  those  belong, 
T»  those  who  loved  me  poor  and  young ; 
But,  trust  me,  for  the  new  I  have, 
They'll  love  me  dearly — in  my  grave." 

DR.  HUGH  was  suavity  and  amiability  itself;  his  host  wai 
courteous  and  attentive ;  I  only,  ,of  the  party,  was  abstracted 
and  silent,  and  could  not  enter,  with  any  interest,  into  the 
discussions,  political,  social,  and  educational,  to  which  the 
medical  guest  led  the  way.  He  frequently  appealed  to  me, 
but  I  answered  mechanically  and  at  random,  and  was  soon 
involved  in  my  own  thoughts  again,  while  the  two  gentle 
men  carried  on  the  conversation  learnedly  enough  between 
themselves.  Though  Dr.  Hugh  showed  equal  readiness  in 
argument,  and  had,  moreover,  the  advantage  of  choosing  his 
topics  in  all  cases,  I  could  not  help  contrasting  the  brusque 
inelegance  of  his  tone  with  the  well-bred  ease  and  quiet  of 
Mr.  Rutledge's.  One  was  trying  to  please  and  to  appear, 
the  other  was  simply  being  what  was  innate  and  habitual. 

Altogether  the  doctor  was,  on  this  occasion,  the  moat 
animated  and  chatty  of  the  trio  at  the  tea-table,  and  though 
Mr.  Rutledge  did  a  proper  share  of  the  talking,  still  hia 
manner  was  not  unreserved,  either  to  his  guest  or  to  me. 
Whether  this  was  the  effect  of  the  change  in  his  feelings  to 
ward  me,  or  only  the  presence  of  a  third  party,  I  could  not 
tell ;  but  it  was  very  tormenting,  and  made  the  doctor's 
stay  unbearably  tedious,  and  the  termination  of  it  an  un 
speakable  relief.  When  the  hall  door  closed  behind  him, 
however,  I  could  have  wished  him  back,  for  it  was  even 
worse  to  find  myself  alone  with  Mr.  Rutledge,  for  the  fir?1 


180  R  I"    :    L  E  D  O  E  . 

time  since  the  strange  night  of  which  I  had  sc  many  strange 
recollections.  Since  then,  was  he  alienated  or  altered,  or 
had  he  forgotten  his  interest  in  me  during  the  days  of  ;il> 
sence  that  had  intervened  ?  His  voice  brought  the  per 
plexing  reverie  to  an  end,  and  dispelled  the  doubts  forever 

"  ISToAV  that  that  tiresome  doctor  has  taken  himself  off," 
he  said,  in  a  tone  so  changed  and  so  divested  of  its  reserve, 
that  it  almost  startled  me,  "  perhaps  you'll  have  the  grace 
to  come  to  me,  and  tell  me  how  glad  you  are  to  be  home 
again."  He  held  out  his  hand,  and  I  was  by  his  side  in  a 
moment.  "  '  Home  is  not  home  without  thee,' "  he  said. 
"  What,  I  should  like  to  be  informed,  am  I  to  do  when 
you're  gone  '  for  good,'  as  this  Yankee  gentleman  would 
say?" 

Surprise  and  pleasure  brightened  my  face,  and  I  had 
some  saucy  words  on  my  lips,  when  the  door  softly  opened, 
and  the  doctor  stood  hesitatingly  on  the  threshold,  apolo 
gizing  for  his  abrupt  return  and  entrance,  on  the  ground 
of  having  forgotten  to  impress  upon  the  young  lady  the, 
importance  of  continuing  the  powders  she  had  been  taking 
He  had  not  thought  of  this  neglect  of  his  till  he  had  actu 
ally  got  into  his  buggy  at  the  door,  and  then  remembered 
it  "  on  a  sudden,"  and  was  so  much  alarmed  at  thinking 
what  the  consequences  might  be,  that  he  had  sprung  out, 
and  hurried  in  to  give  a  parting  charge  on  the  subject. 
Every  three  hours,  he  reiterated,  and  then  apologized  again 
to  Mr.  Rutledge  for  the  interruption. 

Mr.  Rutledge  received  his  apologies  rather  stiffly,  and 
begged  him  to  be  easy  on  the  matter  of  the  powders  ;  he 
had  no  doubt  the  young  lady  would  follow  his  advice  im 
plicitly,  and  he  trusted  the  result  would  be  as  gratifying  as 
Dr.  Hugh  himself  could  wish.  And  the  gentlemen  both 
bowed,  and  Mr.  Rutledge  accompanied  his  guest  to  the 
door  with  undiminished  politeness,  but  with  a  slight  con 
traction  of  the  brow,  that  augured  ill  for  the  doctor's  cause. 

There  was  much  expression  in  the  doctor's  parting  saluta- 


RTTTLEDGE.  181 

tion  to  ine ;  his  glance  had  been  rapid,  but  he  had  not  omitted, 
in  his  observation,  the  total  change  of  attitude,  expression 
and  voice,  that  had  ensued  upon  his  withdrawing  from  the 
two  people  who  had  been  so  distraits  and  undemonstrative 
all  the  evening ;  it  was  a  significant  fact,  and  he  had  not 
been  slow  to  seizi  upon  it.  And  I  liked  him  less  than  ever 
after  he  left  us  for  the  second  time  that  evening. 

"  Mr.  Rutledge,"  I  said,  when  he  had  returned  from  con. 
voying  the  doctor  to  the  door,  "  did  you  notice  what  a  dis^ 
agreeable  impression  Dr.  Hugh  seemed  to  make  upon 
Tigre  ?  He  keeps  at  a  little  distance  from  him,  and  barks 
in  the  short,  snappish  way  that  he  always  does  when  the 
tortoise-shell  cat  prowls  into  the  barn." 

Mr.  Rutledge  smiled  at  the  analogy  I  seemed  to  trace. 

"  I  don't  altogether  fancy  the  man  myself,  but  one  must 
not  be  too  readily  influenced  by  fancies;  no  doubt  he's  verj 
good  in  his  way,  and  seems  to  be  much  more  of  a  physician 
than  old  Sartain.  It's  a  bad  way  to  expect  too  much  of 
people,  and  I  hope  you'll  never  get  as  much  in  the  habit  of 
It  as  I  have  always  been." 

With  that  he  dismissed  the  subject,  and  presently  point 
ing  to  the  seat  beside  him,  told  me  I  need  not  think  of  say 
aig  good  night  yet,  as  he  had  a  great  deal  to  say  to  me. 
Without  much  reluctance,  I  sat  down,  and  listened  submis 
sively. 

"  In  the  first  place,  you  have  not  asked  what  your  aunt 
says  to  this  new  delay." 

"  Well,  what  does  she  say  ?"  I  asked,  a  little  uneasily. 

"  She  says,  that  unless  you  arrive  very  shortly  at  New 
York,  she  shall  feel  herself  obliged  to  leave  all  her  pressing 
household  cares,  sick  children,  undisciplined  servants,  and 
come  on  for  you  in  person." 

"It's  a  new  thing  for  her  to  be  so  anxious  about  me,"  1 
exclaimed,  impatiently.  "  I  was  sick  a  month  last  summej 
at  school,  and  she  never  suggested  the  idea  of  coming  on  to 
eee  me." 


182  fl  U  T  L,  k  D  G   E  . 

"  Be  that  as  it  may,  her  anxiety  at  present  knows  no 
bounds,  and  I  haVe  in  vain  rendered  the  most  elaborate  ae« 
counts  of  your  state,  and  in  all  ways  endeavored  to  weaken 
her  fears.  This  very  afternoon  I  received  another  letter, 
more  decided  than  the  last  in  its  request,  that  if  you  were 
able  to  be  moved,  you  might  be  brought  on  immediately ; 
if  not,  she  would  at  once  start  for  this  place,  and  my 
answer  was  to  be  instantly  communicated  to  her  by  tele 
graph." 

"You  have  sent  it  ?" 

"  Yes,  three  hours  ago,"  he  answered,  looking  at  me  at 
tentively. 

"  Well,  what  did  you  tell  her  ?" 

"  That  we  should  start  to-morrow  morning  at  eleven 
o'clock." 

I  struggled  hard  to  keep  up,  under  the  unexpected 
blow,  and  answered,  as  I  bit  my  lip  and  choked  down  the 
tears : 

"  Very  well,  sir,  I  will  try  to  be  ready  in  time." 

"  The  doctor  says  it  will  be  perfectly  safe,"  continued  Mr. 
Rutledge,  quietly. 

"  And  there  is  no  appeal  from  his  opinion,"  I  interrupted, 
tartly. 

"  I  am  so  much  better  myself,"  he  went  one,  as  if  he  haq 
not  heard  me,  "  that  there  is  no  imprudence  in  my  attempt 
ing  it ;  and  I  can  see  no  objection  to  complying  with  your 
aunt's  request  immediately.  Indeed,  I  feel  that  I  could  not 
do  otherwise." 

His  indifferent  way  of  speaking  of  what  to  me  was  such 
a  vital  matter,  roused  my  pride  less  than  it  wounded  my 
sensitiveness,  and  I  had  much  ado  to  master  myself  enough 
to  say : 

"  If  you  had  had  the  goodness  to  tell  me  before,  I  need 
not  have  wasted  this  evening,  but  could  have  spent  it  in 
packing." 

"  You  cannot  have  much  to  do,  I  am  sure.     Kitty  can 


R  U  T  L  E  D  G  E  .  183 

pack  everything  in  the  morning,  and  I  thought  it  was  best 
not  to  worry  you  by  telling  you  of  it  before." 

"  I  must  go  up  immediately,  however,"  I  -said,  rising. 

"  I  cannot  let  you  go  yet,"  he  said,  detaining  me.  "  Do 
you  remember  this  is  the  last  evening  you  are  to  spend  at 
Rutledge  ?" 

"  And  what  of  that  ?" 

"  You  ought  to  be  sorry." 

I  shrugged  my  shoulders,  and  said,  it  was  a  pity  I  could 
not  gratify  his  taste  for  the  pathetic. 

"  Ah,  nonsense,  child  !"  he  said,  with  a  sudden  change  of 
manner,  "  we  have  so  little  time  left,  it's  foolish  to  waste 
any  of  it  in  idle  pretences.  You  may  as  well  cry ;  I  know 
you  are  sorry  enough,  I  know  you  can  hardly  keep  back 
your  tears." 

That  broke  down  all  my  self-control ;  burying  my  face  in 
my  hands,  I  burst  into  a  passion  of  tears.  There  was  no  use 
in  attempting  to  command  myself,  and  indeed  I  never 
thought  of  it.  Mr.  Rutledge  took  my  hand,  and  attempted 
to  draw  it  away  from  my  face,  then  suddenly  relinquishing 
it,  walked  rapidly  once  or  twice  across  the  room,  returned, 
and  sat  down  by  me. 

"  You  will  make  it  harder  than  ever  for  me  to  let  you  go, 
if  you  cry  so  bitterly,"  he  said,  after  a  pause.  "  You  will 
soon  forget  your  grief,  and  be  as  happy  in  your  new  home 
as  you  have  been  here,  while  I  shall,  for  a  long  while,  miss 
you,  and  be  lonely  without  you.  Do  you  not  see  I  have  the 
most  to  regret  ?" 

I  shook  my  head,  while  the  sobs  came  more  chokingly 
than  ever. 

"  Foolish  child !"  he  said,  "  this  is  but  a  transitory 
feeling  with  you  ;  it  will  vanish  in  the  sunshine  of  to-mor 
row.  In  a  week,  you  will  have  forgotten  all  about  Rut- 
ledge." 

Now  my  anger  mastered  my  tears,  and  looking  up,  T 
exclaimed : 


184  RD1LEDGE. 

"  You  are  always  telling  me  I  am  a  child !  You  are 
always  treating  me  as  if  I  were  a  senseless  plaything  !  I  am 
tired  of  it ;  I  could  almost  hate  you  fof  it!" 

He  looked  at  my  flashing  eyes  with  a  strange  intentness, 
as  if  he  would  read  me  through  and  through.  "But  you  are 
a  child ;  it  would  be  folly  for  me  to  treat  you  otherwise  ; 
how  can  I  know  that  your  affections  and  sensibilities  are 
other  than  those  of  any  ardent,  impetuous  child  ?" 

With  an  impatient  gesture,  I  interrupted  him  ;  and  turn 
ing  away,  hid  my  face  on  the  sofa  again. 

"  That  is  the  wray !"  he  exclaimed.  "  No  child  cotila 
be  more  changeable ;  one  moment,  I  have  half  a  mind  to 
think  you  are  a  woman,  and  the  next,  you  turn  away,  and 
pout,  and  cry." 

"  You  shan't  have  that  to  say  of  rue  again  !"  I  exclaimed, 
conquering  my  tears  with  a  huge  effort,  and  raising  my 
head.  "  I  will  be  cold  enough,  if  that's  what  vou  want.  I 

O       '  v 

won't  trouble  you  with  my  tears  again,  even  if  you  try  tc 
make  me  cry,  as  you  did  a  little  while  ago.  I  can  be  as 
indifferent  and  unkind  as  you  are  yourself,  if  that  will  be 
any  proof  of  my  maturity  and  wisdom." 

"  Indifferent  ?  Ah,  there  you  show  your  childishness  and 
ignorance  more  plainly  than  you  think!  Ciilpably  indif 
ferent  and  unkind!"  he  said,  with  a  short  laugh.  "But," 
with  a  softening  of  his  voice,  "  whatever  there  may  have 
been  of  neglect  or  unkindness  in  my  manner,  remember, 
when  you  think  of  it  hereafter,  that  there  was  nothing  that 
answered  to  it,  in  my  heart ;  remember  that  I  shall  never 
cease  to  feel  the  strongest  interest  in  you,  the  kindest  affec 
tion  for  you  ;  remember,  whenever  you  need  a  friend,  you 
have  promised  to  appeal  to  me.  And  remember,  too,"  he 
continued,  in  a  lighter  tone,  "  all  the  rest  of  the  engage 
ments  that  you  entered  into,  of  which  that  bracelet  is  to  l>« 
the  souvenir.  I  have  the  greatest  faith  in  it ;  I  shall 
never  feel  very  far  separated  from  you,  with  this  little  key 
BO  near  my  heart,"  he  said,  touching  the  trinket  on  kis  ohai  n 


RUT  LEDGE. 

"  As  for  me,"  I  exclaimed,  bitterly,  "  I  shall  have  to  wear 
this  bracelet  as  I've  promised  to ;  but  I  shall  try  my  best  to 
forget  the  giver  and  all  about  him !  As  for  the  promises,  I 
don't  care  that  for  them !"  And  in  emphatic  contempt  I 
snapped  my  fingers. 

Mr.  Rutledge  smiled,  as  if  he  knew  enough  about  my 
indignation  to  bear  up  under  it,  and  said,  coaxingly  and 
low : 

"  Ah,  surely  you're  not  going  to  desert  me  already ;  my 
little  friend  is  the  one  thing  in  the  world  I  care  for,  just 
now ;  what  would  be  the  result,  if  she  were  to  turn  faith 
less  ?» 

I  averted  my  head.  "  You  should  have  been  prepared 
for  that  when  you  took  a  child  into  your  friendship." 

"  Ah !  that  rankles  still,  I  see.  Well,  now,  turn  your 
face  toward  me,  and  look  up,  while  I  assure  you,  solemnly 
you  know,  and  most  sincerely,  that  I  do  not  think  you  are 
childish  in  most  things,  that  I  do  believe  you  are  honest  and 
true,  and  altogether,  excepting  a  few  pardonable  caprices, 
as  good  a  friend  as  one  need  desire.  Doesn't  that  satisfy 
you  ?  What  could  I  say  more  flattering  ?" 

"  Oh !  as  to  saying,  you  are  unrivalled  at  that ;  it's  the 
doing  that  you  are  deficient  in.  It's  all  very  fine  for  you  to 
call  me  your  friend,  and  say  how  lonely  you  shall  be  without 
me,  and  ah1  that  style  of  thing;  and  then,  in  the  next 
breath,  tell  me  to  get  ready  to  go  away  to-morrow,  and 
remark  that  you,  cannot  see  the  least  objection  to  my 
aunt's  plan — and  look  and  laugh  just  as  usual.  That  doesn't 
seem  much  like  meaning  what  you  say,  surely !" 

"  But  what,"  he  said,  "  would  you  have  me  do  ?  If  it 
made  me  perfectly  miserable  to  part  with  you,  it  is  still 
my  duty  to  do  it.  Tell  me  any  way  of  getting  out  of  it." 

"  Let  me  stay  at  Rutledge,"  I  exclaimed,  turning  toward 
him  with  pleading  eyes;  "just  let  me  stay  here.  I  hate 
New  York,  I  hate  society,  I  don't  even  know  my  aunt ;  and 
here  I  am  so  happy,  and  I  have  just  got  used  to  it  all,  anc 


186  BUTLEDGE. 

am  beginning  to  feel  at  home,  and  it  is  cruel  to  take  me  to 
another  strange  place!  I  will  be  so  good  and  useful;  I 
will  study  and  improve  myself,  and  help  Mrs.  Arnold  with 
the  school-children  and  the  poor  people,  and  keep  Mrs. 
Roberts'  accounts,  and  read  to  you,  and  write  your  letters, 
and  be  just  as  good  and  obedient  as  possible ;  not  in  the 
least  self-willed,  not  a  bit  unlady-like.  Just  try,"  I  went 
on,  coaxingly ;  "  you  will  not  know  me,  I  shall  be  so 
amiable !" 

"  But,"  he  said,  with  a  strange  mixture  of  fondness  and 
irony  in  his  tone,  "  what  would  Madame  votre  tunte  say  to 
such  an  arrangement  ?" 

"  She  would  say,  of  course,  that  if  I  wanted  to,  I  was 
very  wrelcome  to  stay  ;  she  has  daughters  enough  already, 
and  not  having  seen  me,  she  can't  be  expected  to  know 
whether  she  wants  me  or  not." 

"  Very  well ;  supposing  for  a  moment,  that  your  aunt 
had  given  her  consent,  and  that  there  was  no  obstacle  in  the 
way  of  your  remaining  here,  how  many  weeks  do  you  sup 
pose  it  would  be  before  you  would  begin  to  think  regretfully 
of  the  gay  life  you  had  given  up,  and  the  pleasures  you  had 
put  out  of  your  power,  before  you  would  begin  to  sigh  for 
companions  of  your  own  age,  and  excitements  greater  than 
jour  life  here  could  offer?  .  Believe  me,  it  would  not  be 
long  before  you  would  be  thoroughly  '  aweary  '  of  the  quiet 
routine  of  Rutledge,  and  thoroughly  tired  of  your  bar 
gain." 

I  protested  against  this  injustice,  and  exhausted  every 
argument  to  prove  my  superiority  to  such  fickleness,  but 
Mr.  Rutledge  remained  unconvinced. 

"  I  do  not  say  you  are  more  fickle  than  are  all  other 
untamed  young  things  of  seventeen ;  it  isn't  your  fault  thai 
you  are  not  Older  and  wiser  ;  it  is  my  misfortune.  In  tho 
nature  of  things,  you  cannot  stay  forever  ignorant  and 
innocent,  and  indifferent  to  the  world — 


BUTLEDGE.  187 

"  '  Let  the  wild  falcon  soar  ner  swing, 

3he'll  stoop  when  she  has  tired  her  wing.' " 

"  It's  very  strange,"  I  said,  "  that  you  should  tell  me  I 
must  put  myself  in  the  way  of  the  very  temptations  that 
you  were  so  earnest  in  cautioning  me  against  not  long  ago. 
Why  must  I  go  into  society,  when  I  don't  want  it  ?  Why 
must  I  try  the  snares  of  the  world,  when,  in  reality,  I  am 
best  content  away  from  it  ?" 

"You  must  first  know  what  it  is  you  renounce,  my  pretty 
child  ;  you  must  first  see  what  other  places  are  like,  before 
you  can  judge  whether  Rutledge  will  content  you,  and 
what  other  friends  are  like,  before  you  can  tell  how  worthy 
of  your  affection  this  first  one  is.  Wait  till  you  are  a  little 
older ;  wait  a  year  or  two,  and  then  if  you  still  turn  to 
Rutledge,  it  is  your  home  forever." 

Wait  a  year  or  two!  If  he  had  said,  "Wait  till  the 
early  part  of  the  twentieth  century,"  it  could  hardly  have 
seemed  a  more  insupportable  term  of  banishment. 

"  Ah !"  he  said,  with  a  sigh,  "a  year  or  two  seems  an  age 
to  you  now ;  when  you  have  passed  through  as  many  as  I 
have,  you'll  begin  to  realize  how  short  they  are,  how  very 
small  a  part  of  a  life  they  form,  and  how  very  quickly  they 
pass." 

I  shook  my  head.  "They  would  go  soon  enough  if 
there  was  anything  pleasant  to  mark  them ;  but  if  they  are 
to  be  passed  in  longing  for  their  end,  they  will  be  age? 
indeed." 

"  No  fear  that  the  next  two  or  three  years  of  your  life 
will  be  passed  in  that  way,  my  friend.  It  would  be  a 
heavy  blow,  indeed,  that  would  take  the  elasticity  out  of 
your  spirit,  and  daunt  the  courage  that  I  know  will  make 
your  life  a  worthy  one.  Be  true  to  yourself;  keep  youi 
heart  pure,  and  the  world  will  not  hurt  you  ;  you  will  on}y 
see  how  far  it  is  from  satisfying  you." 

"'  Oh '"  I  exxalmed,  "  if  I  might  never  have  to  go  in  it . 


188  KUTLEDGE. 

If  I  could  only  stay  here.  You  can't  understand  how 
miserable  it  makes  me  to  go  among  strangers  again.  And 
I  am  so  fond  of  this  place !  You  need  not  be  afraid  that  I 
shall  get  tired  of  it ;  I  don't  get  tired  of  people  and  places 
when  once  I  like  them.  Do  you  suppose  I  ever  was  tired 
of  my  own  dear  home,  or  ever  would  have  been,  if  I  had 
not  been  taken  away  from  it  ?" 

And  at  that  recollection  the  tears  came  blindingly  into 
my  eyes. 

"  You  have  never  told  me  about  your  home.  Were  you 
happy  there  ?"  he  asked,  kindly.  "  Tell  me  about  it." 

It  seemed  strange  when  I  remembered  it,  but  it  did  not 
seem  so  at  the  time,  that  I  should  tell  him  what  I  had  never 
told  to  the  dearest  of  my  confidants,  had  never  before  put 
into  words ;  but  there  was  a  sympathy  in  his  tone  that  was 
irresistible ;  for  the  time,  my  grief  seemed  his ;  I  did  not 
wonder  why  his  interest  was  so  strong  in  my  recollections ; 
I  did  not  think  it  strange  that  tears  shone  in  his  eyes  when 
they  filled  mine,  nor  that  his  voice  trembled  as  he  told  me 
of  his  sympathy;  he  was  my  friend;  he  was  kinder  and 
better  than  any  one  else  in  the  world  ;  that  was  enough. 

"  Poor  little  homesick  child,  you  must  have  been  miser 
able  enough,  among  so  many  strange  faces,  with  such  an 
iching  heart.  It  was  a  cruel  thing  to  send  you  off"  so  far, 
without  a  single  familiar  face  to  comfort  you,  and  so  soon 
after  such  a  shock." 

"Aunt  Edith  thought  it  was  best  for  me,  I  suppose. 
Perhaps  it  was ;  that  is,  if  it  is  best  for  anything  living  to 
be  wholly  miserable,  it  was  very  good  for  me.  And  now," 
I  went  on,  turning  to  him,  beseechingly,  "how  can  you 
know  whether  it's  best  for  me  to  be  sent  away  from  here  ? 
I  shall  be  dreadfully  homesick  there,  I  know  ;  I  shall  be  so 
strange  and  forlorn  among  all  those  gay  people  ;  I  know 
you  will  be  sorry  if  you  don't  let  me  stay.  I  know  you 
will  say,  when  it  is  too  late,  '  she  was  right  after  all ;  ] 
should  not  have  made  her  go  '  Y©u  will  miss  me,  I  know 


EUTLEDGE.  189 

you  will.  Think  how  dreary  the  long  evenings  will  be,  and 
how  lonely!" 

"  Ah !  Don't  appeal  to  my  selfishness  ;  let  that  slumber 
if  it  can  ;  don't  make  my  duty  any  harder  than  it  is  already. 
Be  a  good,  self-denying  child,  as  you  have  always  been,  and 
go  because  I  think  it  is  best  for  you,  and  because  it  is 
your  duty  to  go,  and  mine  to  send  you.  Will  you  try  ?" 

"Yes,"  I  said,  sadly,  "if  there's  no  help,  I  will  try  to 
make  the  best  of  it,  and  think  as  little  as  possible  about 
what  might  have  been,  and  as  much  as  possible  about  what 
I  ought  to  do." 

"  That's  my  brave  little  friend  again  !  You  haven't  been 
with  Mr.  Shenstone  without  profit.  He  has  made  you 
already  as  philosophical  as  himself."  v  ^ 

"  If  I  could  be  near  Mr.  Shenstone,"  I  said,  with  a  sigh, 
"  there  would  be  some  chance  of  my  learning  to  control 
myself  and  be  good.  One  can  hardly  help  doing  right,  with 
his  teaching." 

"  It  may  seem  so  to  you,"  he  answered,  "  and  I  acknow 
ledge  it  is  a  great  assistance ;  but,  alas !  good  counsel  can 
not  accomplish  the  warfare.  If  it  could,  those  who  have  the 
benefit  of  Mr.  Shenstone's  would  be  fortunate  indeed  ;  but 
we  have  to  struggle  and  conquer  for  ourselves ;  no  one  can 
do  it  for  us." 

"  But  you  do  not  mean  to  say  that  it  isn't  the  greatest 
advantage  and  comfort  to  have  the  advice  and  guidance  of 
such  a  wise  and  holy  man  ?  You  do  not  mean  that  you  do  not 
think  Mr.  Shenstone  the  best  and  the  most  devout  of  men  ?" 

Mr.  Rutledge  smiled  at  my  enthusiasm. 

"  Do  not  be  afraid  that  Mr.  Shenstone  will  suffer  at  my 
hands.  He  has  been  my  guide  and  counsellor  ever  since  1 
was  younger  than  you  ;  and  so,  you  see,  I  have  reason  to 
know,  experimentally,  the  value  of  his  counsels,  and  the 
possibility  of  not  doing  right  in  spite  of  them.  He  is  th« 
noblest  of  men,  the  most  clear-sighted  and  wise  of  counsel 
lors,  and  my  nearest  and  truest  friend,  and  yet,  for  aU  that, 


190  KUTLEDGE 

I  have  often  gone  contrary  to  his  rules,  and,  no  doubt,  often 
grieved  his  kind  heart.  But,  so  it  goes!  The  human 
heart,  you  are  aware,  my  young  friend,  is  whe  very  per- 
versest  of  all  created  things.  Now,  at  this  very  moment, 
would  you  believe  it,  I  am  doing  what  that  same  good  and 
wise  Mr.  Shenstone  has  warned  me  not  to  do  ;  and,  more- 
over,  mean  to  continue  doing  it." 

I  looked  in  astonishment. 

"  I  wonder  at  you,  sir.  You  will  be  sorry  in  the  end. 
Mr.  Shenstone,  I  am  certain,  knows  better  than  you  do." 

"  How  can  you  possibly  know  ?  You  cannot  tell  anything 
about  the  right  of  the  case." 

"  No,  of  course  I  don't  know  anything  about  it;  but  from 
the  nature  of  things,  Mr.  Shenstone  is  the  most  likely  to  be 
right.  He's  older  than  you,  he's  a  clergyman,  and — well — 
you  will  not  be  angry,  but  I  think  he  is  much  less  likely  to 
be  governed  by  his  wishes  than  you,  much  more  likely  to 
see  the  right,  and  give  up  everything  else  for  it,  and  to  look 
at  things  clear  of  the  mists  that  other  people  see  them 
through.  You  know  what  I  mean,"  I  continued,  "  even 
though  I  don't  express  it  very  well ;  and  oh!  Mr.  Rutledge, 
I  am  sure  you  must  see,  if  you  think  about  it  at  all,  that  it 
is  very  unwise  in  you  to  reject  Mr.  Shenstone's  advice.  The 
tune  may  come  when  you'll  regret  it." 

"  Nevertheless,  I  shall  do  it." 

From  perversity,  perhaps,  as  much  as  anything  else,  1 
continued  to  urge  what  I  thought  right.  There  was  quite 
a  fascination  in  contradicting  and  opposing  Mr.  Rutledge  ; 
it  gave  me  a  giddy  sense  of  elation  to  think  I  dared  do  it, 
and  though  I  did  not  gain  my  point,  it  diverted  me  from 
the  thoughts  of  to-morrow's  pain,  till  the  clock  struck,  and 
I  started  up  in  alarm. 

"  It's  only  eleven,  Cinderella ;  there's  no  need  for  such  a 
frightened  look.  There  is  an  hour  left  of  your  last  evening 
at  Rutledge." 

"  No,  indeed ;  Kitty  is  waiting  for  me,  and  there  is  so 


KTTTLEDGE.  191 

tnucli  to  be  done  before  to-morrow  at  ten  o'clock.  Good 
night,  sir." 

"  Ah,  I  see  you  are  in  a  hurry ;  you  are  tired.  Whj 
didn't  you  go  before  ?  Ten  is  your  usual  hour." 

The  clock  had  struck  another  half  hour  before  my  last 
evening  at  Rutledye  was  ended — before  the  last  good  night 
was  spoken  at  the  library  door,  and,  with  a  sad  enough 
heart,  I  ascended  the  stairs,  and  traversed  the  dreary  hall, 
where  not  even  ghostly  terrors  would  have  had  power  to 
startle  me  from  the  heavy  grief  that  was  lying  at  my  heart. 

My  room  was  cheerless ;  the  candle  died  flickeringly  as  I 
opened  the  door  ;  the  fire  was  dead  long  since  ;  poor  Kitty, 
tired  with  waiting,  had  fallen  asleep  on  the  rug,  with  one  of 
the  sofa  pillows  under  her  head.  I  covered  her  softly  with 
some  shawls,  wrapped  one  about  myself,  stole  to  the  bay 
window,  and  leaning  my  forehead  against  the  pane,  cried 
as  if  my  heart  would  break. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

"  What  is  this  passing  scene  ? 

A  peevish  April  day ! 
A  little  sun,  a  little  rain, 
And  then  night  sweeps  along  the  plain, 
And  all  things  fade  away." 

KIKKE  WHITE. 

THE  grey  dawn  was  just  breaking  when  I  woke  Kittv 
She  started  up  beAvildered,  and  her  bewilderment  did  not 
decrease  when  I  told  her  the  object  of  this  reveille.  I  never 
had  any  cause  to  doubt  the  sincerity  of  the  grief  she  showed 
on  this  occasion.  I  had  added  as  much  to  the  pleasure  of 
her  life  since  I  had  been  at  Rut! edge,  as  she  had  increased 
the  comfort  of  mine ;  and  it  was  with  no  very  light  hearts  that 
we  went  about  the  business  of  packing.  There  was  too  much 
to  be  done,  however,  to  admit  of  much  sentiment,  and  we 
both  bestirred  ourselves  so  diligently,  that  before  the  break 
fast  bell  rung  my  trunk  was  strapped  and  labelled,  my  b.-ig 
filled  with  everything  necessary  for  the  journey,  and  my 
bonnet,  cloak  and  shawl  lying  ready  on  the  bed.  There 
was  not  another  article  now  about  the  room  that  belonged 
to  me.  What  a  dreary  and  forsaken  look  it  had  already  ; 
the  toilet-table  dismantled  of  its  recent  ornaments;  the 
books  and  work  that  had  given  so  bright  and  familiar  a 
look  to  the  pretty  room,  now  all  removed,  and  a  bit  of  card, 
a  ball  of  cord,  and  some  withered  flowers,  were  all  that 
graced  the  etagere  and  the  table. 

I  did  not  dare  trust  myself  to  enter  into  particulars,  even 
in  thought,  and  with  a  very  resolute  voice,  telling  Kitty  I 
would  come  up  immediately  after  breakfast,  and  see  if  thero 
was  anything  more  for  her  to  do,  I  went  downstairs. 

109 


BTTTLXDGD. 

The  first  floor  presented  signs  of  an  exciting  stir ;  there  was 
a  very  unusual  bustle  and  movement  in  the  quiet  hall — a 
trunk  and  a  valise  stood  at  the  front  door,  a  pile  of  cloaks 
and  wrappers  lay  beside  them ;  Thomas'  long  limbs  were 
animated  with  unwonted  energy,  Mrs.  Roberts  bustled  in 
and  out  of  pantries,  and  to  and  fro  through  side-doors  and 
entries,  in  a  very  startling  manner ;  Sylvie  was  more  raving 
distracted  than  ever — flew  unmeaningly  up  and  down 
stairs — took  the  wrong  thing  to  the  wrong  place — irritated 
everybody,  and  was  in  the  way  generally.  Mr.  Rutledge, 
in  the  library,  gave  audience  to  farmer,  gardener,  groom, 
and  carpenter — delivered  orders — paid  bills — settled  ac 
counts — the  one  undisturbed  member  of  the  common 
wealth.  It  was  evident  that  the  sudden  marching  orders 
had  taken  them  all  by  surprise,  and  unsettled  most  of  their 
brains.  Stephen,  alone,  I  was  happy  to  notice,  seemed 
to  preserve  in  some  degree  the  possession  of  his  reason 
ing  faculties,  and  did  not  "haze"  to  the  same  extent 
as  the  others.  Kitty,  I  thought,  comes  honestly  by  her 
sangfroid. 

I  stood  some  minutes  by  the  hall  window  gazing  out 
upon  the  dreary  winter  landscape,  the  dull  sky,  the  brown 
bare  trees,  the  hard  grey  earth,  ashes  of  roses  in  hue,  the 
nether  millstone  in  hardness.  It  had  been  the  coldest  night 
of  the  season,  the  water  that  stood  in  the  narrow  carriage- 
tracks  and  in  the  little  crescents  that  the  horses'  hoofs  had 
made,  was  frozen  hard ;  the  trees,  the  hedges,  looked  as  if 
they  were,  too — so  still  and  stiff  they  stood.  Not  a  bit  of 
wind  was  stirring,  but  the  temperature  was  evidently 
moderating. 

"Softening  down  for  snow,"  Stephen  remarked,  as  he 
passed  out ;  "  you'll  not  have  it  so  cold  for  your  journey, 
Miss.  It's  too  bad  that  you're  going,  such  fine  sleighing  as 
we  have  at  Rutledge  a  little  later  hi  the  season.  You 
should  stay  and  enjoy  it,  Miss." 

"  I  wish,  indeed   I  could,  Stephen,"  I  said,  with  great 


194  BUTLEDGE. 

sincerity.  "  It's  a  long  while  since  I've  had  a  good  sleigh, 
ride.  The  roads  must  be  splendid  for  it  here,  so  broad  and 
clear." 

"  Beautiful,  Miss ;  packed  smooth,  and  hard  as  the 
house  floor,  and  as  dry  as  sand.  You  might  walk  over  'em 
in  your  thin  slippers,  and  never  wet  your  feet.  And  the 
snow  lays  sometimes  better  than  a  month  without  a  rain  or 
a  thaw,  the  weather  as  clear  as  a  bell  and  as  cold  as  Christ 
mas — thermometer  down  to  nobody  knows  where,  and 
nobody  minds,  after  they're  used  to  it.  But  maybe  you're 
afraid  of  the  cold?" 

"  Not  I !  It's  the  very  thing  I  like.  I'd  give  anything 
for  a  ride  behind  those  bays,  wrapped  up  to  the  eyes  in 
furs,  on  the  coldest  day  Rutledge  ever  saw.  I  know  they 
must  go  like  the  very  wind  when  there's  snow  on  the 
ground  ;  don't  they  ?" 

"  Aye,  Miss,  that  they  do  !"  exclaimed  Stephen,  warming 
up  at  the  mention  of  his  favorites ;  for  though  the  garden 
was  his  particular  province,  as  the  oldest  man  in  the 
service,  he  took  a  fatherly  interest  in  everything  animate 
and  inanimate  on  the  place.  "  That  they  do !  There's 
nothing  in  this  part  of  the  country  has  ever  begun  to  come 
up  to  'em.  I'd  like  you  to  see  'em  go,  when  their  spirit's 
up !  'Taint  many  young  ladies,"  he  continued,  with  a 
"  gentleman  of  the  old  school "  bow,  "  'taint  many  young 
ladies  as  can  teh!  a  horse  when  they  see  him ;  but  every 
body  says  that  you  sit  like  a  born  horsewoman,  and 
Michael,  stupid  rascal  as  he  is,  swears  you  ride  like  a  cavalry 
officer.  Nobody  but  the  master  ever  managed  that  Madge 
so  before." 

I  acknowledged  the  compliment  with  a  laugh  and  a 
blush,  and  encom-aged  Stephen  'to  continue  his  bulletin  of 
the  stable,  in  which  he  well  knew  my  interest.  Indeed,  the 
worthy  gardener  was  not  to  blame  for  his  loquacity,  as  this 
was  by  no  means  the  beginning  of  our  acquaintance ;  many 
a  chat  I  had  had  with  him  over  the  garden-gate,  while  he 


BUTLEDGE.  195 

:eaned  on  his  spade,  and  discoursed  willingly  of  the  ancient 
glories  of  the  house  of  Rutledge,  and  the  manifold  virtues 
of  the  present  master  of  it.  I  knew  he  was  a  faithful,  honest 
old  fellow,  shrewd  and  intelligent  beyond  his  class,  and 
altogether,  inestimably  superior  to  many  old  fogies  in  the 
higher  walks  of  life,  and  being  certain  that  he  was  very 
much  delighted  to  be  talked  to,  I  very  much  enjoyed  talk 
ing  to  him. 

He  was  just  saying,  with  great  appearance  of  sincerity, 
that  he  did  not  know  what  they  should  all  do,  now  I  was 
going.  I  had  waked  up  the  old  place  "  amazing ;"  it  was 
a.  long  while  since  there  had  been  anybody  so  cheerful-like 
and  bright  in  it ;  and  as  for  his  Kitty,  he  really  did  not 
know  how  she  could  content  herself  after  me — when  we 
were  both  startled  by  finding  that  Mr.  Rutledge  had  been 
an  undemonstrative  auditor  of  the  whole  conversation,  and 
ostensibly  engaged  in  putting  some  books  into  the  valise 
behind  us,  was  quietly  listening,  and  no  doubt  criticising,  all 
that  had  been  said. 

Stephen  looked  a  little  confused,  only  a  very  little  though, 
and  with  dogged  dignity  gave  me  many  good  wishes  for 
the  journey,  bowed  and  withdrew.  I  turned  around  and 
faced  the  intruder  with  a  determination  not  to  be  ashamed 
of  myself,  and  not  to  acknowledge  that  I  had  been  unduly 
familiar  with  an  inferior,  and  to  submit  to  no  lecture ;  but 
his  face  was  so  different  from  anything  that  I  had  expected, 
that  I  blushed,  and  looked  very  foolish,  instead  of  very 
defiant.  He  laughed  outright. 

"Upon  my  word,"  he  exclaimed,  "I  never  saw  old 
Stephen  so  nearly  embarrassed  in  my  life ;  during  an 
acquaintance  of  some  forty  years,  I  never  saw  him  approach 
so  near  a  blush  !  And  you,  young  lady,  certainly  have  an 
extraordinary  taste  for  low  life  !  You  have  no  greater  pas 
sion,  that  I  can  see,  than  the  one  you  have  just  been  acknow 
ledging  to  Stephen,  for  horseflesh  generally;  and  as  for 
dogs,  your  mind  runs  on  them  continually;  Kitty  shares  you* 


196  KTTTLEDGE. 

oonfidence — Stephen  is  hail-fellow-well-met — Michael  sweari 
by  you,  and  " 

"  That's  enough  for  the  present,  if  you  please,"  I  said, 
hurrying  into  the  dining-room. 

"  You  will  have  coffee,  sir  ?"  I  continued,  very  blandly, 
sitting  down  at  the  table. 

"  Are  you  sure  you  know  enough  of  such  things  to  make 
me  a  palatable  cup  ?  I  know  you  could  saddle  my  horse 
for  me  in  extremity,  and  groom  the  bays  to  perfection,  but 
whether  you're  to  be  trusted  with  anything  so  feminine  as 
making  coffee,  really  you  must  excuse  me  for  being  a  little 
skeptical." 

"  Ah !  please,  Mr.  Rutledge !" 

But  it  did  not  please  Mr.  Rutledge  to  do  anything  but 
tease  me  just  at  that  time.  After  breakfast  was  over,  he 
told  me,  looking  at  his  watch  in  his  precise  manner,  that 
there  was  just  an  hour  and  a  quarter  before  it  would  be 
time  to  start,  and  if  I  had  nothing  better  to  do,  I  might 
come  down  to  the  stables  with  him,  and  give  my  parting 
orders  about  the  care  of  the  horses  and  dogs.  I  did  not 
know  whether  this  invitation  was  given  sarcastically  or  sin 
cerely,  but  I  preferred  accepting  it  in  the  latter  sense  ;  so 
I  ran  upstairs  and  put  on  my  bonnet  and  cloak  and  joined 
him  in  the  hall  in  a  very  short  time.  He  evidently  did  not 
mean  to  give  me  opportunity  for  any  sentimental  regrets, 
for  he  never  before  had  been  half  so  teasing.  I  could  not 
do  anything  right,  though  I  was  a  baa-lamb,  as  far  as  sub- 
missiveness  went.  I  walked  either  too  slow  or  too  fast, 
was  too  chatty  wTith  the  groom,  or  too  taciturn  with  him  ; 
there  was  not  a  fault  or  indiscretion  in  all  our  previous 
acquaintance  that  I  did  not  then  and  there  have  to  bear  the 
penalty  of.  It  was  only  when  I  came  to  say  good-bye  to 
Madge  that  my  courage  gave  way  completely,  and  I  leaned 
my  forehead  on  her  glossy  neck  to  conceal  the  silly  tear* 
that  filled  my  eyes. 

"  I  verily  believe,"  said  Mr.  Rutledge,  "  that  she  knows 


BDTLBDGB.  197 

you.  She  does  not  submit  to  such  familiarity  from 
strangers." 

Finding  that  I  did  not  answer,  he  continued,  in  a  kinder 
tone: 

"  I  think,  as  you  broke  her  in,  to  feminine  usage  at  least, 
you  are  entitled  to  her ;  so  I  make  her  over  to  you,  body 
and  soul,  if  soul  she  has,  to  have  and  to  hold,  from  thia 
day  forward ;  and  a  tender  mistress  may  she  find  you." 

"  Thank  you,"  I  said,  without  raising  my  head ;  "  a  very 
useful  gift;  of  about  as  much  service  to  me  as  if  you 
should  make  over  to  me  your  right  and  title  in  the  fastest 
pair  of  reindeer  in  the  employ  of  the  Hudson's  Bay  Com 
pany." 

"  Why,  don't  you  mean  ever  to  come  here  again  ?  If 
you  don't,  you  had  better  take  her  with  you.  Any  way, 
she  is  mine  no  longer.  What  shall  be  done  with  her  ? 
Shall  Michael  blanket  and  prepare  her  to  accompany  us  to 
New  York?  or  will  you  leave  her  here  till  you  coine 
back  ?" 

"  Ah !  Do  you  fancy  I  am  child  enough  to  believe  in 
such  a  conveyance  as  that?  It  wouldn't  stand  in  any 
court  of  law." 

"  What  would  you  have  ?  There  isn't  a  magistrate 
within  four  miles,  and  we  haven't  the  time  to  draw  up  a 
document  properly.  I  will  tell  you  what  can  be  done  as 
next  best.  I  will  record  the  transaction  here,  above  her 
manger,  and  there  it  shall  remain  to  remotest  ages,  '  to 
witness  if  I  lie.' " 

Mr.  Rutledge  took  out  his  penknife,'  and  with  consider 
able  ingenuity  carved  in  the  sturdy  old  oak  beam,  the 
transfer  of  Madge  Wildfire  from  himself  to  me,  using,  for 
brevity,  only  initials,  and  then  the  date.  I  climbed  up  to 
the  fourth  round  of  the  ladder  when  it  was  completed,  and 
did  my  best  to  achieve  a  signature,  but  the  result  was  so 
unsatisfactory  that  Mr.  Rutledge  put  beneath  it,  "  hei 
mark,"  and  so  it  stands  to  this  day,  I  suppose.  This  trana 


198  K  0  T.L  EDGE. 

action  having  consumed  a  good  deal  of  the  hour  and  a  quarter 
that  we  had  before  starting,  Mr.  Rutledge  rather  hurried 
up  my  adieux  with  my  new  favorite,  and  it  was  very  ungra 
ciously  that  he  submitted  to  wait  till  I  had  cut  a  lock  from 
her  black  mane,  and  embraced  her  tenderly  for  the  twen 
tieth  time. 

"  Nobody  is  to  ride  her,  remember,"-  I  said,  as  we  went 
out ;  "  only,  of  course,  the  man  who  takes  care  of  her, 
when  it  is  necessary  for  exercise." 

"  Your  orders  shall  be  obeyed.  Any  further  instructions 
that  may  occur  to  you  in  the  course  of  the  winter  you  had 
better  commit  to  paper  and  send  to  me,  and  I  will  observe 
them  faithfully." 

"  Oh,  I  depend  entirely  on  your  integrity ;  I  am  confi 
dent  you  will  be  careful  of  her.  Anyway,"  I  continued, 
"  it's  a  comfort  to  know  I  own  anything  at  Rutledge,  and 
have  a  sort  of  claim  upon  its  hospitality  still.  Ah !  how 
long  it  will  be  before  I  walk  up  this  road  with  you  again, 
Mr.  Rutledge !" 

"  Maybe  not,"  he  answered.  "  You  shall,  if  you  will, 
come  back  and  make  me  a  visit  before  many  months  are 
over ;  you  shall  come  back  and  see  how  Rutledge  looks  in 
her  June  dress, 

"  '  When  all  this  leafless  and  uncolored  scene, 
Shall  flush  into  variety  again ;' 

when  this  dull  November  sky  shall  have  given  place  to 
the  warmest  summer  sunshine,  and  this  hard,  frozen  earth 
shall  be  soft  and  brown,  and  roses  shall  be  blooming  about 
this  dreary  porch,  and  the  garden  shall  be  one  wilderness 
of  sweets,  and  the  trees  and  the  lawn  shall  be  all  of  the 
richest  green.  Will  you  come  then,  if  I  send  for  you  ?" 

I  checked  my  look  of  delight  with  a  sigh :  "  you'll  forget 
before  that  time,  I'm  afraid.  And  I  don't  believe  my  aunt 
would  let  me  come." 


BTJTLEDGE.  199 

"  You  may  trust  that  to  me.  Haven't  you  seen  that  I 
make  people  do  as  I  wish  them  to  ?  Do  you  not  believe 
that  I  can  induce  your  aunt  to  let  you  come,  if  I  continue 
to  want  you,  and  you  continue  to  want  to  come  ?" 

"  Perhaps  so,"  I  said,  half  incredulously ;  "  but  if  I 
remember  right,  my  Aunt  Edith  is  fond  of  her  own  way 
too,  is  she  not  ?" 

"She  has  that  reputation,"  he  answered,  with  a  short 
laugh.  "  But  cela  ne  fait  rien,  You  shall  come  if  you 
wish  to.  Leave  it  to  me,  and  say  nothing  about  it." 

"  June  is  a  long  way  off  yet,  but  it  is  better  than  two  or 
three  years,  the  term  of  my  *  honorable  banishment,'  that 
you  first  decreed." 

Before  we  reached  the  house,  the  snow-flakes  began  to 
descend,  large,  and  soft,  and  white,  floating  down  in  fast- 
increasing  thickness, 

"  As  though  life's  only  call  or  care 
Were  graceful  motion." 

"  How  pretty  it  makes  the  landscape !"  I  said,  pausing  on 
the  steps.  "  In  among  the  bare  trees  there,  it  makes  such  a 
charming  variety  and  lightness,  and  in  a  few  minutes  every 
twig  will  be  feathered  with  it,  and  fences,  and  roofs,  and 
all.  Why  can't  we  wait  till  we  have  had  one  sleigh- 
ride  ?» 

"  This  snow  will  not  amount  to  anything ;  we  should 
have  to  wait  a  long  while  for  a  sleigh-ride.  It  is  too  early 
yet  for  that  entertainment ;  a  fortnight  hence  will  be  time 
enough  to  expect  it." 

"  I  think  you  are  mistaken,"  I  said,  looking  wisely  at  the 
clouds,  "  there's  plenty  of  snow  up  there,  and  we  shall  have 
enough  of  it  before  night,  depend  upon  it.  Hadn't  we  bet 
ter  wait  till  to-morrow  ?  It  would  be  dreadful  to  be  caught 
in  a  heavy  snow-storm  on  the  way." 

"Have  you  forgotten  your  good  resolutions  of  last 
night  ?"  he  said,  in  a  low  tone.  "  There's  the  carriage." 


200  KUTLEDGE, 

And  without  answering  a  word  I  ran  upstairs.  Kitty 
wrapped  me  tenderly  in  my  soft  shawl,  and  fastened  my  fur 
tippet  carefully  round  my  neck. 

"  Oh,  Kitty !  you'll  smother  me !"  I  cried.  But  it  was 
something  less  tangible  than  tippet  or  shawl  that  was 
smothering  me  just  then,  and  choking  my  breath.  I  gave 
one  glance  around  the  room,  thrust  a  douceur  into  Kitty's 
hand,  and  telling  her  to  bring  down  my  travelling-bag,  hur 
ried  out  without  a  second  look,  and  downstairs  without  a 
second  thought,  sustained  by  the  determination  not  to  make 
a  baby  of  myself  and  cry. 

The  library  was  empty ;  I  passed  on  through  the  hall. 
Mr.  Rutledge  was  already  at  the  carriage,  superintending 
the  packing  in  it  of  numerous  valises,  books,  shawls,  and 
packages.  Mrs.  Roberts,  bluer  than  ever  with  the  cold, 
stood  by  him,  busy  with  all  the  arrangements  for  his  com 
fort,  and  looking  a  shade  more  cheerless  than  usual,  at  the 
prospect  of  separation  from  the  master  who  stood  to  her 
lonely  old  age  in  the  place  of  son  and  friend.  "  I  believe 
she  does  love  him,"  I  thought,  and  warming  toward  her  at 
the  idea  of  one  redeeming  weakness,  I  walked  up  to  her  and 
said,  extending  my  hand : 

"  Good  bye,  Mrs.  Roberts.  I  am  afraid  you  wnl  be  glad 
to  get  rid  of  such  a  troublesome  guest ;  but  I  assure  you  I 
am  very  sorry  to  have  given  you  trouble,  and  very  much 
obliged  to  you  for  the  attention  you  have  shown  me." 

Mrs.  Roberts  gave  me  her  hand,  and  answered,  without 
'  any  undignified  haste  : 

"  All  attentions  you  have  received  from  me  you  are  very 
welcome  to.  I  hope  never  to  be  wanting  in  my  duty  to 
any  guest  of  Mr.  Rutledge's." 

"Then  you  can't  regard  me  with  favor  for  any  othei 
cause?  Ah,  Mrs.  Roberts,  I  don't  know  why  it  is  you 
would  never  like  me,  even  before  I  gave  you  any  reason  to 
dislike  me." 

"  Mrs.  Roberts  will  learn  to  think  differently  some  day 


KUTIEDGE.  201 

*.  hope,"  said  Mr.  Rutledge,  without  looking  up  from  hia 
occupation.     "  Is  there  anything  more  to  go  here?" 

There  was  nothing,  the  last  package  was  bestowed  in  its 
place,  the  last  strap  secured.  Thomas,  who  was  to  accom 
pany  his  master  to  New  York,  stood  waiting  for  us  to  enter 
the  carriage.  Michael  was  on  the  box. 

"  We  are  all  ready,  then,"  and  he  motioned  me  to  enter. 

"  Good  bye,  Mrs.  Roberts,"  he  continued.  "  I  believe 
there  is  nothing  further  that  I  wanted  to  say  to  you.  Make 
yourself  as  comfortable  as  you  can  this  winter,  and  let  me 
hear  from  you  occasionally.  I  shall  be  back  by  the  latter 
part  of  January,  however,  and  I  hope  everything  will  go  on 
well  till  then." 

Mrs.  Roberts  looked  very  much  as  if  she  thought  no 
thing  more  improbable  than  his  being  back  in  January, 
but  only  said : 

"Good  bye,  sir.     I  shall  write." 

Mr.  Rutledge  followed  me  into  the  carriage,  and  shut  the 
door.  I  bowed  again  to  Mrs.  Roberts,  and  looked  out 
anxiously  for  Kitty,  who  had  not  appeared  since  she  brought 
down  my  bag ;  but  at  that  moment  Kitty,  in  person,  was 
discovered  at  the  other  window  of  the  carriage,  bringing 
me  a  glove  she  said  she  had  found,  which,  however,  I 
guessed  was  only  a  ruse  to  get  another  good  bye. 

"  Ah,  Kitty,  that's  the  glove  Tigre  gnawed,  and  I  nevei 
have  found  the  mate  to  it  since  that  day ;  of  course  it's  use' 
less,  so  you'd  better  keep  it  to  '  remember  me  by,'  as  they 
say.  Good  bye,  again." 

Kitty  said,  "  Good  bye,  Miss,"  but  with  so  tearful  and 
woebegone  a  look,  withal,  that  even  Mr.  Rutledge  waa 
touched,  and  leaning  forward,  he  said : 

"  Don't  take  it  so  very  much  to  heart,  my  good  girL 
Your  young  mistress  will  be  back  again,  sometime,  I  hope. 
And  be  as  obliging  and  submissive  as  you  can  to  Mrs*, 
Roberts,  Kitty ;  remember  it  was  my  last  charge." 

And  dropping  some  coins  into  her  hand,  he  told  Michael 

9* 


202  KUT  LEDGE. 

to  drive  on.  At  this  moment  Tigre  rushed  whining  to  the 
carriage,  and  I  begged  he  might  be  allowed  to  drive  to  the 
station,  and  come  back  in  the  carriage.  Mr.  Rutledge  con 
senting,  Kitty  placed  the  tawny  favorite  in  my  arms,  and, 

"  Smack  went  the  whip, 
Round  went  the  wheels," 

but  I  have  known  gladder  folks.  From  the  back  of  the  car 
riage  I  watched  the  lessening  figures  on  the  piazza,  as  we 
drove  rapidly  down  the  avenue,  and  an  involuntary  sigh 
escaped  me  as  a  winding  of  the  road  hid  the  dark  house, 
with  its  snow-capped  roofs  and  porticoes,  from  my  sight. 

"  Good  bye  till  June,"  I  said,  regretfully. 

"  Till  June,"  repeated  Mr.  Rutledge,  pulling  Tigre's  ears, 
and  making  him  yejp.  "  Do  you  understand,  Tigre  ?  This 
young  lady  means  to  come  back  in  June,  if  she  doesn't 
change  her  mind.  Understand  the  condition,  Tigre.  What 
do  you  think  of  our  chance  ?" 

The  cur,  by  way  of  answer,  began  gnawing  at  my  tippet. 

"  Don't  destroy  that  too,  sir,"  I  exclaimed.  "  You've 
ruined  one  pair  of  gloves  for  me  already.  Isn't  it  singular, 
what  could  have  become  of  that  other  one,"  I  continued. 
"  I've  searched- high  and  low  for  it — eveiywhere,  in  fact." 

"  Where  did  you  see  it  last  ?"  he  inquired. 

"  I  cannot  remember  anything  about  it,  after — after — 
Tigre  and  I  started  on  our  race.  Don't  scold,"  I  said,  coax- 
ingly,  "  you  know  I  am  going  to  reform." 

"  Careless  girl,"  he  said,  gloomily,  "  what  will  you  lose 
next  ?" 

"  It  wasn't  my  fault ;  I've  looked  everywhere  for  it.  Isn't 
it  strange  what  has  become  of  it  ?" 

"  Very  strange,"  said  Mr.  Rutledge,  gi-avely.  "  Indeed, 
I  may  say,  in  a  high  degree  mysterious." 


CHAPTER  XVL 

"  Get  thee  back,  Sorrow,  get  thee  back ! 
My  brow  is  smooth,  mine  eyes  are  bright, 
My  limbs  are  full  of  health  and  strength, 
My  cheeks  are  fresh,  my  heart  is  light." 

MACKAY. 

"Wnr,  which  way  are  we  going?"  I  exclaimed,  as  wa 
turned  off,  on  an  opposite  road,  about  quarter  of  a  mile 
before  reaching  the  well-remembered  depot  and  gloomy 
suburbs  which  had  been,  I  supposed,  our  destination. 

"  To  tell  you  the  truth,"  said  my  compagnon  de  voyage, 
"  I  have  begun  to  look  upon  railroads  as  an  invention  of  the 
enemy,  and  to  prefer  any  other  mode  of  travel.  So  that, 
considering  we  are  both  invalids  (a  fact  you  are  constantly 
overlooking),  and  cannot  bear  fatigue  or  excitement,  I 
have  arranged  our  route  after  this  manner :  we  drive,  to-day, 
by  easy  stages  as  far  as  W. ;  then  a  night's  rest  there  ;  and 
to-morrow  morning  go  on  to  C.,  where  we  part  with 
the  carriage,  and  take  the  day-boat  down  the  river,  which 
will  bring  us  to  the  haven  of  our  desires  to-morrow  even 
ing  about  seven  o'clock.  This  seemed  a  more  agreeable 
plan  than  going  by  cars,  and  I  thought  would  be  less 
fatiguing." 

"  A  la  bonne  heure  I"  I  cried,  remembering  it  was  three 
times  as  long  as  the  railroad  route. 

It  proved  a  most  delightful  journey;  the  further  we  went, 
the  thinner  the  snow-clouds  grew,  and  as  the  day  wore  on, 
they  disappeared  altogether,  and  the  sun  came  out,  faint 
and  pale,  and  the  air  grew  soft  and  mild.  The  carriage  waa 
the  easiest  imaginable,  the  roads  were  in  good  condition, 
the  horses  disdained  their  burden,  and  the  occasional 

208 


204  RTTTLEDGE. 

respites  "which  their  master  decreed,  the  scenery  was  as 
varied  arid  charming  as  inland  scenery  at  that  season  of  the 
year  could  possibly  be ;  every  change  and  amusement  that 
the  limits  of  the  carriage  admitted  of,  Mr.  Rutledge's  care 
had  provided ;  and  we  were  two  companions  who  had  at 
least  the  charm  of  freshness  for  each  other,  and  were  not  aa 
yet  bored  with  one  another's  society,  whatever  we  might 
be  in  the  course  of  tune.  We  tried  to  read,  but  the  pages 
of  my  new  novel  did  not  turn  very  fast ;  I  gave  it  up  before 
the  heroine  (the  records  of  whose  nursery  reminiscences 
occupied  twTo  thirds  of  the  volume)  had  entered  her  tenth 
year.  Mr.  Rutledge's  review  had,  I  afterward  found,  but 
two  of  the  leaves  cut,  though  he  read  it  assiduously  for  an 
hour  and  a  half. 

So  we  tacitly  agreed  to  resign  literature,  and  devote  our 
attention  to  the  scenery,  which,  as  we  approached  the  Hud- 
gon,  certainly  did  grow  worthy  of  attention.  The  purple- 
headed  mountains  already  were  discernible  against  the  pale 
sky ;  the  hills  grew  steeper,  the  roads  wilder.  There  was  an 
anecdote  or  a  legend  attached  to  every  dark  wood  or  anti 
quated  farmhouse  we  passed.  Mr.  Rutledge  seemed  to 
know  every  inch  of  the  way,  and  to  be  familiar  with  its 
history  since  its  settlement  by  the  pale-faced  gentry ;  though 
it  is  my  belief,  that  where  he  did  not  know  of  any  enter 
taining  tradition  "  to  cheat  the  toil,  and  cheer  the  way,"  he 
waived  all  conscientious  regard  to  veracity,  and  improvised 
one  on  the  spot.  Very  engrossing  they  were,  however, 
whether  manufactured  from  "  whole  cloth  "  or  founded  on 
fact,  and  it  was  quite  three  o'clock  before  any  of  the  party 
(inside  passengers  at  least)  began  to  revolve  seriously  the 
question  of  dinner.  Then,  however,  it  appeared  that  Mrs. 
Roberts'  care  had  provided  us  with  the  most  delicate  and 
tempting  of  collations,  and  we  stopped  to  enjoy  it  at  the 
outskirts  of  a  little  village,  by  the  side  of  ^.  fresh,  clear 
brook  that  was  on  its  way,  I  suppose,  "  to  join  the  brim 
ming  river,"  that  was  onr  destination  also.  We  went  by 


different  routes,  however,  and  I  never  have  seen  the  pretty 
little  eddying  streamlet  since  that  pleasant  lunch  upon  its 
banks,  when  Mr.  Rutledge  filled  my  cup  from  its  clear 
waters,  and  Thomas  cooled  the  wine  in  its  bosom.  Rather 
a  superfluous  service,  I  couldn't  help  thinking,  in  considera 
tion  of  the  season  and  state  of  the  thermometer ;  but  it 
brought  out  in  strong  relief  the  methodic  precision  of 
Thomas'  mind.  He  was  an  invaluable  machine ;  once  wound 
up  correctly,  he  ran  for  any  given  time,  but  as  to  any  exer 
cise  of  his  reasoning  faculties  in  the  discharge  of  his  duties, 
that  was  as  totally  wanting  as  in  other  machines.  Any 
display  of  it  from  him,  would  have  been  as  startling  to  his 
master,  as  it  would  have  been,  had  the  watch  in  his  pocket 
suddenly  addressed  him  in  good  English.  Thomas,  how 
ever,  was  just  the  servant  for  Mr.  Rutledge ;  he  would 
have  been  worse  than  useless  to  a  lazy  man  who  wanted  a 
valet  to  take  care  of  him ;  but  Mr.  Rutledge  chose  to  do  his 
own  thinking  in  most  cases,  and  only  wanted  his  orders 
promptly  executed,  which  Thomas  certainly  was  capable  of 
doing,  and  did  to  admiration. 

A  very  nice  lunch  Mrs.  Roberts  had  prepared  for  us,  and 
we  drank  her  health  gratefully  in  some  very  superior  Bur 
gundy.  We  did  not  hurry  ourselves  at  all;  and  as  1 
treated  Tigre  to  some  of  the  remaining  delicacies,  and 
Thomas  packed  up  the  baskets  again,  Mr.  Rutledge  lazily 
sketched  the  group  from  the  carriage  window,  on  a  blank 
leaf  in  my  book ;  making  rather  a  spirited  drawing  of  it, 
only  caricaturing  grotesquely  the  length  of  Thomas'  legs, 
and  my  eyelashes.  Then  we  got  en  route  again,  and  with 
occasional  stoppings  to  sketch,  which  I  insisted  on,  and 
occasional  pauses  at  village  inns  to  water  the  horses,  or 
rather  to  wash  their  faces,  the  afternoon  wore  on. 

"Tired?"  Of  course  not,  never  fresher  in  my  life. 
What  a  nuisance  railcars  are,  with  their  distracting  racket 
and  bustle  and  jar.  Why  do  not  people  always  travel  in 
carriages  ? 


206  KUTLEDGE. 

Mr.  Rutledge  agreed  witL  me  that  it  was  very  pleasant ; 
indeed,  he  seemed  to  enjoy  it,  just  as  he  did  that  ride  I  had 
such  good  cause  to  remember.  He  left  all  care  and  sadness 
behind  at  Rutledge,  and  gave  himself  up  to  the  present.  In 
that  little  travelling-cap,  too,  I  was  sure  he  didn't  look  a 
day  over  thirty. 

"  Mr.  Rutledge,  yoi\  look  to-day  so  like  that  crayon 
sketch  of  your  young  relative,  that  you  gave  me.  It  is 
really  wonderful." 

Mr.  Rutledge  laughed,  and  asked  me  if  I  continued  to 
admire  it. 

"  Oh,  as  much  as  ever,"  I  answered,  laughing,  and  blush 
ing,  too,  under  cover  of  the  twilight,  for  the  short 
November  day  had  faded.  He  evidently  thought  I  was 
still  deceived  about  the  picture,  and  I  did  not  enlighten  him. 

"  I  mean  to  hang  it  in  the  very  best  light  in  my 
room  in  New  York,  where  I  can  look  at  it  from  '  morn  to 
dewy  eve,'  if  I  choose." 

"  I  advise  you  not;  Josephine  will  ferret  out  the  mystery, 
and  expose  your  romantic  devotion.  She  isn't  given  that 
way  herself,  and  will  not  spare  you.  Your  ideas  of  hero- 
worship  and  hers  might  not  agree." 

"  Well,  if  they  do  not,  it  may  prove  fortunate  in  the 
end.  We  shall  not  be  so  likely  to  interfere  with  each 
other." 

"  If  you  do,  '  may  I  be  there  to  see !'  " 

"  Which  would  you  bet  on  ?" 

Mr.  Rutledge,  after  a  protest  against  such  language  from 
such  lips,  deliberated  somewhat  upon  my  question,  and 
then  favored  me  with  his  opinion.  We  were,  he  thought, 
in  point  of  will,  about  equally  matched ;  but  my  French- 
bred  cousin,  he  was  afraid,  had  a  little  the  advantage  of  me 
in  coolness,  and  had  enjoyed  the  benefit  of  a  training  and 
experience  which  might  tell  heavily  against  me.  And 
much  more  to  the  same  effect,  which  I  only  laughed  at 
then,  font  remembered  afterward  with  less  amusement. 


KUTLEDGE.  207 

All  this  while  it  was  growing  darker  and  darker,  and  we 

did  not  arrive  at  W -,  as  it  was  proper  we  should  have 

done  some  time  since.  This  seemed  at  length  to  strike 
Mr.  Rutledge,  and  he  called  to  Michael  to  know  if  he  was 
sure  of  the  road.  Michael  was  sure,  and  again  we  went  on. 
At  the  end  of  another  half  hour,  however,  Mr.  Rutledge 
again  stopped  him,  and  as  it  was  too  dark  to  see  anything 
of  the  road,  he  directed  him  to  drive  toward  the  only  light 
we  could  discover,  which  proved  to  emanate  from  the 
dingy  window  of  a  low  farmhouse  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
off.  At  Thomas'  thundering  knock,  appeared  a  bony  rustic 
in  his  shirt-sleeves,  who  came  wonderingly  to  the  carriage, 
shading  a  candle  with  his  hand,  which  threw  fantastic 
shadows  on  his  rough,  open-mouthed  visage,  followed  by 
an  untidy-looking  woman,  and  a  whole  troop  of  shaggy, 
unconil>  1  f-hildren,  evidently  just  roused  from  their  first 
nap.  Mr.  Rutledge,  after  long  perseverance,  elicited  the 
information  that  he  sought,  which  proved  anything  but 
agreeable,  being  a  confirmation  of  his  fears.  We  had  come 

five  miles  out  of  our  way,  W lymg  just  ten  miles  to 

the  south,  while  we  had  been,  under  Michael's  guidance, 
pursuing  a  course  due  north. 

Michael  was  a  miserable  and  a  scared  man,  when  the 
thunders  of  his  master's  wrath  fell  upon  him.  Mr.  Rut- 
ledge  was  not  very  demonstrative  or  vehement,  but  he 
conveyed  the  idea  of  an  angry  man  as  alarmingly  as  I 
should  care  to  see  it  represented.  No  wonder  Michael 
was  scared ;  even  I  felt  a  little  awe-struck  till  after  he  had 
shut  the  carnage  door,  and  we  had  turned  to  retrace 
our  course. 

"  Are  you  very  tired  ?"  he  said.  "  I  would  not  have 
had  this  happen  upon  any  consideration.  You  will  be 
utterly  worn  out,  and  unable  to  travel  to-morrow.  I 
thought  I  had  arranged  it  admirably  for  you,  but  this 
Hibernian  numbskull  has  upset  it  all." 

I  assured  him  that,  on  my  account,  he  need  not  anathe- 


208  EUTLEDGB. 

matize  the  luckless  Michael  further,  for  I  was  not  in  the 
least  tired,  and  did  not  mind  the  detention  at  all.  Owing 
to  this  little  contretemps,  it  was  ten  o'clock  when  we 
arrived  at  W ,  and  halted  at  the  door  of  its  most  pro 
mising  hotel,  which  was  at  best  but  a  shabby  affair.  I  would 
not  have  acknowledged  it  on  any  account,  but  I  was  dread 
fully  tired  and  sleepy,  and  could  hardly  conceal  these  humi 
liating  frailties,  while  the  landlord  and  a  drowsy  waiter  or  two 
bustled  about  to  get  us  some  "  tea ;"  which  meal,  arranged 
upon  a  remote  end  of  a  dreary,  long  table,  in  a  dingy,  long 
room,  was  utterly  unpalatable,  and  I  was  but  too  grateful 
to  Mr.  Rutledge  for  excusing  me  when  a  chambermaid 
appeared  to  say  my  room  was  ready,  and  conduct  me 
to  it. 

It  seemed  direfully  early  next  morning  when  the  same 
functionary  appeared  to  awake  me,  with  the  intelligence 
that  breakfast  would  shortly  be  on  the  table,  and  the  gentle 
man  had  sent  her  to  call  me,  and  to  see  if  there  was  any 
way  in  which  she  could  help  me.  "  The  gentleman  "  had 
evidently  backed  his  suggestion  with  some  specimens  of  the 
United  States  currency,  for  she  was  overwhelmingly  atten 
tive,  and  helped  me  to  dress  in  "  no  time."  Breakfast, 
arranged  again  as  a  little  colony,  at  the  end  of  the  long 
table,  was  considerably  more  inviting  than  last  night's 
meal,  Thomas  having  had  orders  to  beat  up  the  town  for 
spring  chickens  and  fresh  butter,  and,  being  a  veteran  in 
the  recruiting  service,  had  of  course  succeeded.  Mr. 
Rutledge  looked  a  little  anxiously  at  me,  and  said  I  was 
wretchedly  pale,  and  he  did  not  know  about  going  on.  I 
laughed  at  the  idea,  and  we  were  soon  en  route  again,  driv 
ing  briskly  along  in  the  eye  of  a  strong  wind,  and  with  the 
bluest  of  skies  overhead. 

Arrived  at  C ,  we  had  an  hour  to  spare,  before  the 

arrival  of  the  boat,  which  I  spent  in  the  parlor  of  the  very 
pretending  steamboat  hotel,  in  writing  a  few  lines  of  adieu 
and  apology  to  Mrs.  Arnold,  accounting,  as  satisfactorily  as 


BUTLEDGE.  209 

I  could,  for  my  unceremonious  and  abrupt  departure,  and 
desiring  a  renewal  of  my  acknowledgments  to  Mr.  Shen- 
stone.  Of  this,  Mr.  Rutledge  approved,  and  wrote  a  few 
lines  to  Mr.  Shenstone  to  accompany  it.  Then  came  the 
parting  from  Tigre,  and  the  sending  back  ol  the  carriage, 
which  seemed  like  severing  the  last  tie  to  Rutledge.  Tigre 
was  much  affected,  pooi  beast,  and  looked  wistfully  back, 
out  of  the  carriage  window,  as  far  as  we  could  see. 

A  bell  rin^s,  a  rush  occurs,  Thomas  devotes  himself  to 

O       3  ' 

the  baggage,  Mr.  Rutledge  gives  his  arm  to  me,  we  thread 
the  crowded  wharf,  the  blue  Hudson  dances  in  the  sunlight, 
the  fine  steamer  holds  her  breath,  and  tries  to  lie  still 
while  we  get  on  board. 

"  0  Tiber !     Father  Tiber !     To  whom  the  Romans  pray, 
A  Roman's  life,  a  Roman's  arms,  take  thou  in  charge  this  day." 

I  am  luxuriously  established  in  the  saloon,  with  every 
imaginable  wish  attended  to,  and  easy-chairs,  books,  papers, 
and  cushions  enough  to  satisfy  five  invalids,  but  they  do 
not  satisfy  me.  I  am  bored  with  the  heat,  and  the  whim 
pering  of  the  pale  children,  whom  a  lean,  sallow-looking 
mother  feeds  unremittingly  with  "  bolivars  "  and  "  taffy ;" 
I  am  tired  with  the  swinging  of  those  lamps  overhead,  and 
the  everlasting  rocking  of  a  stout  lady  in  a  red  plush  rock 
ing-chair,  and  with  looking  at  the  gaudy  colors  in  the  carpet, 
and  I  rush  out  for  a  brisk  walk  on  the  deck  with  Mr.  Rut- 
ledge.  What  a  day  it  is !  How  impossible  to  be  other 
wise  than  happy  and  hopeful;  how  inevitably  the  dark 
phantoms  of  doubt  and  dread  take  themselves  off  in  the 
light  of  such  a  sun  as  this,  and  in  the  sight  of  such  a  scene ! 
The  waves  dance  bright  and  gay  in  the  sunshine  ;  the  moun 
tains  rise,  on  either  hand,  into  the  blue  and  cloudless  sky  ; 
in  a  word,  the  loveliest  river  in  all  this  lovely  river-braided 
New  "World  lays  before  me,  the  heart  of  seventeen  beats  in 
my  bosom,  the  glow  of  health  and  exercise  tingles  in  my 


210  RUT  I-  EDGE. 

veins;  what  wonde-r  that  I  forget  the  tears  of  yesteiday, 
the  separation,  the  homesickness,  the  loneliness  that  I  so 
dreaded. 

Neither  can  my  companion  altogether  resist  the  influ 
ences  of  the  hour.  If  the  sharp  air  and  the  quick  walk 
have,  as  he  says,  made  the  tardy  roses  bloom  again  on  my 
cheeks,  they  have  also  brought  a  glow  to  his  face,  and  a 
sparkle  to  his  eye,  and  untamed  wit  and  sarcasm  to  his  lips. 
He  quizzes  our  fellow  voyagers,  tells  me  odd  stories  of  for 
mer  travel,  droll  sketches  of  western  journey  ings,  and  Cali 
fornia  "  experiences."  Then  the  laugh  dies,  as  some 
winding  of  the  river  brings  suddenly  before  us  a  picture 
too  grand  to  be  looked  at  with  trifling  words  and  laughter 
on  our  lips.  And  Mr.  Rutledge  has  the  "  right  thing  "  to 
say  then,  in  his  rich  manly  voice,  and  the  right  words  to 
embody  the  voiceless  thoughts  that  crowd  to  my  own  lips 
— words  that  do  not  jar  or  desecrate,  but  make  the  beauty 
tangible  and  the  grandeur  more  ennobling. 

By  and  by,  most  of  our  fellow  travellers  give  up  to  the 
cold  and  go  below ;  and  at  last  we  are  left  with  only  a  per 
severing  artist,  who  holds  his  hat  on  with  one  hand,  and 
sketches  with  the  other,  and  a  couple  of  ladies,  whose  ruddy 
cheeks,  thick  shoes,  grey  dresses,  plaid  shawls,  "  boas  "  and 
big  bonnets,  proclaim  indisputably  to  be  H.  B.  M.'s  loyal 
and  unalienated  subjects.  It  has  always  been  a  question 
with  me,  as  yet  unanswered,  whether  by  any  act  of  Parlia 
ment  these  "proud  islanders,"  out  on  their  travels,  are  pro 
hibited  from  appearing  in  anything  but  the  invariable  grey 
dress,  plaid  shawl,  boa,  and  big  bonnet,  in  which  they  inva 
riably  do  appear.  After  a  while,  even  they  go  down,  and  a 
solitary  cadaverous-looking  man,  in  the  dress  of  a  Romish 
priest,  is  our  only  companion.  He  paces  up  and  down  one 
corner  of  the  deck,  never  raising  his  heavy  eyes,  but  read 
ing  prayers  diligently  out  of  a  little  book,  his  thin  lips  mov 
ing  rapidly.  It  is  no  doubt  a  good  and  pious  thing  to  read 
prayers  out  of  a  little  book ;  but  it  seems  to  me,  that  with 


KFTLE'DGE.  211 

that  grand  and  glorious  lesson  spread  upon  the  mountains 
there  before  us,  it  would  be  a  very  pardonable  thing  to  look 
up  at  it,  and  to  give  God  thanks. 

It  is  rather  a  bore  to  go  down  to  dinner,  and  after  that, 
to  be  sentenced  to  a  term  of  imprisonment  in  the  saloon, 
because,  forsooth,  it  is  too  cold  outside,  and  I  must  rest. 
But  late  in  the  afternoon,  I  plead  that  the  wind  has  fallen, 
that  there  is  no  possible  chance  of  my  taking  cold,  and  I 
must  see  the  sun  set  among  the  Highlands,  and  I  gain  re 
luctant  permission ;  and  now  for  another  walk  ! 

The  sunset  is  beyond  my  hopes ;  the  twilight  steals  down 
after  it,  soft  and  dusky,  and  broods  about  the  rocky  Pali 
sades,  and  dulls  to  dimness  the  dancing  waves,  and  settles, 
grey  and  thick,  around  the  pretty  villas  and  white  cottages 
that  dot  the  banks,  and  deepens  slowly,  till  all  is  one  som 
bre  hue  in  earth  and  sky,  and  one  fair  star  comes  out  to 
establish  the  reign  of  night. 

We  are  late  this  evening  in  arriving  at  "New  York ;  we 
should  have  been  there  some  time  ago ;  in  less  than  half  an 
hour  we  shall  be  at  the  wharf,  Mr.  Rutledge  says.  All  my 
gaiety  and  spirits  have  fled ;  I  wonder  that  I  could  have 
forgotten.  Still  we  pace  the  deck ;  there  is  no  talk  of  cold 
or  fatigue  now ;  indeed,  not  much  talk  of  any  kind. 

"  We  are  in  sight  of  your  new  home  now,"  says  my 
companion,  pointing 

"  Where  the  lamps  quiver 
So  far  in  the  river." 

And  I  cannot  reply,  to  save  my  life.  A  mist  of  tears  dim 
the  glare  of  those  lights,  at  first  sight.  We  near  the  wharf; 
the  bell  rings  ;  the  busy  hum  of  the  city  reaches  our  ears 
less  and  less  faintly ;  the  dim  figures  that  crowd  the  wharf 
grow  more  distinct. 

"  We  had  better  go  below,"  I  say,  with  a  shiver,  "  I 
have  to  find  my  books  and  shawls,  and  it  is  growing  go 
cold." 


212  BUrLEDGK. 

Perhaps  if  I  had  known  more  about  that  "  untold,  untried 
to-morrow,"  which  I  so  vaguely  dreaded,  I  should  have 
shrunk  more  even  than  I  did,  from  ending  this  short  hour 
before  its  dawning.  But, 

"  It  is  well  we  cannot  see 
What  the  wut  will  be." 


CHAPTER  XVH. 

And  all  that  fills  the  heart  of  friends 
When  first  they  feel,  with  secret  paiti, 

Their  lives  henceforth  have  separate  ends, 
And  never  can  be  one  again." 

LONGFELLOW. 

THOMAS  being  at  once  the  most  determined  and  the  most 
imposing  of  attendants,  he  speedily  succeeded  in  clearing  a 
way  for  us  through  the  crowd  of  hackmen,  carmen,  and 
newsboys,  and  in  selecting  the  most  promising  of  the  array 
of  vehicles  offered  for  our  accommodation ;  installing  us 
and  our  luggage  therein  and  thereon ;  and  bestowing  his 
own  long  limbs  d  cdte  du  cocker,  we  were  soon  rattling  over 
pavements,  rough  and  jarring  to  a  miserable  degree.  Mr. 
Butledge  perceived  how  frightened  and  nervous  I  was,  and 
first  tried  to  laugh  away,  then  to  coax  away,  my  foolish 
dread  of  meeting  my  aunt.  It  was  in  vain;  for  once, 
his  kindness  and  eloquence  were  lost  upon  me.  I  could 
think  of  nothing  but  the  approaching  interview;  and 
looking  out  of  the  window,  counted  eagerly  the  blocks  we 
passed. 

"  How  much  further  is  it  ?"  I  asked,  despairingly,  as  we 
rumbled  through  bewildering  labyrinths  of  dark  and  narrow 
streets.  "  Aren't  we  nearly  there  ?" 

"  My  dear  little  rustic,  we  are  not  quarter  of  the  way. 
We  have  a  long  drive  before  us  yet,  and  if  you  will 
renounce  the  pleasure  of  looking  out  at  those  crazy  lamp 
posts,  and  turn  your  face  this  way,  I  will  promise  to 
tell  you  long  enough  before  we  reach  Gramercy  Square, 
for  you  to  get  up  a  very  pretty  speech  to  rush  into  you* 

218 


BUTLEDGE. 

aunt's  arms  withal.    In  the  meantime,  think  about  me,  and 
not  about  her."  f 

I  tried  to  obey,  while  my  companion  amused  and 
humored  me  like  the  spoilt  child  I  was  fast  becoming 
under  his  indulgence.  It  was  impossible  not  to  feel  reas 
sured  by  his  manner,  and  soothed  by  it,  half  teasing  and 
half  tender ;  but  all  the  terror  returned,  when,  looking  at 
his  watch,  and  then  out  into  the  street,  he  said : 

"  I  promised  to  tell  you ;  we  are  now  in  Fourth  Avenue ; 
in  about  three  minutes  and  a  quarter,  we  shall  turn  into 
Gramercy  Square,  and  in  about  one  minute  and  three 
quarters  from  that  time,  we  shall  stop  at  the  door  of  your 
new  home.  You  have  just  five  minutes  to  smooth  your 
hair,  pinch  some  color  into  your  white  cheeks,  say  good  bye, 
and  tell  me  how  good  and  faithful  a  friend  you  are  going 
to  be." 

"  Oh,"  I  cried,  in  great  alarm,  "  surely  you  will  go  in !  I 
shall  die  if  I  have  to  go  alone.  Dear  Mr.  Rutledge !  You 
would  not  be  so  unkind.  Just  think  how  little  I  know  my 
aunt,  and  how  I  shall  feel  to  be  all  alone  without  one  soul  I 
know.  You  surely  will  not  leave  me." 

Mr.  Rutledge  laughed  and  yielded  ;  before  I  was  aware, 
the  carriage  had  stopped,  and  Thomas  had  mounted  the 
steps  and  rung  the  bell.  In  a  moment,  a  stream  of  light 
from  the  hall  showed  the  bell  was  answered.  Thomas 
returned  to  open  the  door  of  the  carriage,  and  with  Mr. 
Rutledge's  kind  words  in  my  ear,  and  the  kind  touch  of  his 
hand  on  mine,  I  crossed  the  dreaded  threshold.  The  ser 
vant,  who  recognized  Mr.  Rutledge  deferentially,  showed 
us  into  a  parlor,  where  the  soft  light,  the  rich  curtains,  and 
the  pleasant  warmth,  gave  one  an  instant  feeling  of  luxury 
and  comfort.  The  next  room  was  only  dimly  lighted  ;  but 
beyond  that,  through  lace  hangings,  was  visible  a  brighter 
room,  and  glimpses  of  glass  and  silver,  made  it  apparent 
that  dinner  was  but  just  over. 

From  this  room,  pushing  aside  the  drapery  with  graceful 


RUTLEDGE.  215 

haste,  issued  a  lady,  who  I  knew  at  once  to  be  my  aunt 
Edith.  There  never  was  a  firmer  and  more  elastic  tread 
than  hers,  nor  a  better  turned  and  more  graceful  figure ; 
the  modish  little  cap  upon  her  head,  with  its  floating  rib 
bons,  was  all  that  at  that  distance  looked  matronly  enough 
to  designate  her  as  the  mother  of  the  demoiselle  who  fol 
lowed  her.  Mr.  Rutledge  advanced  to  meet  her,  thus 
shielding  me  a  moment  longer.  Her  greeting  to  him  was 
as  gracious  and  cordial  as  possible,  but  she  looked  eagerly 
forward,  saying  quickly : 

"  Mais  oil  est  Penfant  /" 

Mr.  Rutledge  laughed,  and  turned  to  me,  "_Z/a  void,'  ho 
said,  appreciating  her  look  of  amazement. 

"  Impossible !"  she  exclaimed,  starting  back.  "  My  child 
I  never  should  have  known  you,"  she  continued,  taking  me 
by  both  hands,  and  kissing  me  as  affectionately  as  she  could 
for  her  bewilderment.  She  held  me  off,  and  looked  at  me 
again ;  then  gave  Mr.  Rutledge  a  quick,  searching  look,  and 
said  rapidly  in  French,  in  a  tone  that  was  not  altogether  as 
light  and  jesting  as  it  was  meant  to  appear,  "And  this  is 
the  '  little  girl '  you  have  been  writing  to  me  about  for  the 
last  three  weeks ;  this  is  '  the  child '  you  have  had  the  care 
of.  Upon  my  word,  monsieur,  your  notions  of  infancy  and 
mine  differ !" 

Mr.  Rutledge  answered  lightly,  but  very  indifferently; 
really  he  begged  Mrs.  Churchill  would  forgive  his  misrepre 
sentation  of  facts,  if  he  had  been  guilty  of  any ;  he  was, 
he  acknowledged,  culpably  unenlightened  on  the  different 
stages  of  rosebud-opening;  it  had  struck  him  that  the 
rosebud  under  discussion  was  in  the  unopened  and  unde 
veloped  state,  and  so  he  had  spoken  of  it ;  but  he  begged 
Mrs.  Churchill  would  excuse  his  ignorance  and  inattention. 

Mrs.  Churchill  said,  recovering  an  easy  tone  : 

"  Ah,  we  all  know  your  sad  willfulness  and  coldness  I" 
This  in  French ;  then  in  English,  "  Josephine,  mv  child, 
here  is  your  new  cousin." 


218  RUTLEDGE. 

Josephine  came  forward,  and  with  pretty  empressement, 
kissed  me  on  both  cheeks,  and  held  my  hand  affectionately 
as  she  exclaimed : 

"  Why,  mamma !  she  is  taller  than  I  am,  and  so  much 
older  than  I  expected  1" 

"  And  you  are  so  different !"  I  said,  gazing  admiringly  at 
her  slight,  elegant  figure,  and  pleasing  brunette  race. 

"  Do  not  forget  your  old  friend  for  your  new  one,  tnough, 
Miss  Josephine,"  said  Mr.  Rutledge,  extending  his  hand. 

Josephine  looked  very  coquettish  and  pretty,  dropped  her 
eyes,  and  gave  him  her  hand,  saying : 

"  You  were  so  long  in  coming,  we  began  to  doubt  wnether 
you  cared  for  that  title." 

"  Put  my  long-delayed  return,  Miss  Josephine,  down  to 
a  combination  of  the  most  adverse  and  unconquerable  cir 
cumstances.  What  with  runaway  cars,  and  runaway  horses, 
broken  arms,  and  brain  fevers,  the  wonder  is,  not  that  we 
did  not  arrive  before,  but  that  we  arrived  at  all." 

"  Do  not  keep  that  poor  child  standing  any  longer,"  ex 
claimed  my  aunt,  drawing  me  gently  to  a  sofa,  while  Mr.  Rut- 
ledge  and  Josephine  seated  themselves  opposite,  and  talked 
as  if  they  were,  indeed,  "  friends  of  old,"  while  Josephine's 
laugh,  which,  gay  as  it  was,  hadn't  altogether  a  true  ring 
to  it,  conveyed  the  idea  of  more  familiarity  and  intimacy 
than  I  was  quite  prepared  for.  Meanwhile  my  aunt  untied 
my  bonnet-strings,  smoothed  my  hair,  and  said  I  was  grow 
ing  so  like  my  poor  dear  mother.  No  doubt  it  was  kindly 
meant,  but  I  had  never  yet  learned  to  bear  calmly  the  least 
allusion  to  my  grief,  and  the  tears  rushed  into  my  eyes,  and 
the  dawning  confidence  and  self-possession  were  miserably 
dashed  back  again,  and  I  had  to  struggle  hard  to  make  any 
reply  at  all.  My  aunt  soothingly  praised  my  pretty  sensi 
bility,  and  only  made  matters  worse.  Then  she  told  me  to 
wipe  away  my  tears,  and  come  into  the  dining-room  with 
her.  I  followed  gladly,  and  she  rang  and  ordered  coffee, 
and  made  me  sit  beside  her  and  tell  her  all  about  my  jour- 


BUTLEDGE.  217 

ney,  and  whether  1  still  felt  any  ill  effects  from  my  accident, 
and  how  I  liked  Rutledge,  and  whether  I  was  glad  to  leave 
school.  It  was  strange,  that  with  all  this  kindness  my  re 
serve  did  not  melt  faster ;  but  it  was  a  miserable  fact,  that 
I  felt  more  awe  and  admiration  for,  than  ease  and  sympathy 
with,  my  new-found  relative.  I  longed  to  appear  well  in 
her  eyes,  and  win  her  affection,  but  I  never  was  more  awk 
ward  and  ill  at  ease.  She  had  a  way  of  looking  at  me  that 
showed  me  she  was  making  up  an  estimate  of  me,  and  I  felt 
as  if  I  were  sitting  for  my  picture  all  the  time,  and  was  as 
easy  and  natural  as  persons  generally  are  under  those  cir 
cumstances. 

I  asked,  at  last,  where  my  other  cousins  were.  Grace 
vas  at  her  lessons,  but  would  be  down  presently ;  Esther 
WRS  sent  to  bed.  Indeed,  a  violent  scuffling  and  roars  of 
"  Let  me  see  her,  too,"  smothered  by  a  voluble  French  re 
primand,  had  announced  to  me,  upon  first  entrance,  that 
la  petite  was  about  making  her  exit.  I  took  off  my  cloak, 
and  accepted  my  aunt's  suggestion,  that  I  should  not  go  to 
my  room  till  I  had  had  a  cup  of  coffee.  Mr.  Rutledge  and 
my  cousin  were  presently  summoned  from  the  other  room, 
and  coffee  was  served.  Josephine  was  very  bright  and 
piquant,  talking  well  and  amusingly;  Mr.  Rutledge  was 
more  sarcastic  and  man-of-the-world-ly  than  he  had  been  at 
home ;  my  aunt  was  graceful,  winning,  and  polished,  only 
making  my  wretched  awkwardness  and  silence  more  con 
spicuous  and  striking.  I  longed  to  redeem  myself,  but 
there  was  a  spell  upon  me ;  monosyllables  and  unfinished 
sentences  were  all  the  contributions  toward  the  conversa 
tion  that  I  could  command,  till  Josephine  exclaimed : 

"  Why,  how  quiet  you  are !  You  do  not  say  a  word- 
Is  she  always  so  silent,  Mr.  Rutledge  ?" 

Mr.  Rutledge  smiled,  and  turned  toward  me. 

"How  is  it,  mademoiselle?"  he  said.  "I  have  had  but 
a  short  experience  of  your  cousin's  conversational  powers," 
he  continued,  to  Josephine  ;  "  I  must  confess  that  I  have 

la 


218  R  (JTLEDGE. 

Bometimes  fancied  that  she  held  those  powers  somewhat  in 
reserve ;  but  I  have  no  doubt  that  among  companions  of  her 
own  age,  and  in  the  congenial  society  of  her  young  cousins, 
she  will  become  as  charmingly  loquacious." 

Josephine  patted  me  patronizingly  on  the  shoulder  ;  my 
aunt  looked  at  me  thoughtfully ;  Mr.  Rutledge  turned  to 
me  for  confirmation  of  his  words,  with  a  bow  and  a  smile 
that  staggered  me  completely.  I  began  to  wonder  whether 
he  had  ever  been  anything  more  to  me  than  the  polite 
stranger  he  now  appeared.  Whether,  in  truth,  the  last 
three  weeks  had  not  been  all  a  dream,  and  that  railroad 
accident  had  not  in  some  way  affected  my  brain. 

Just  then  the  door  opened,  and  enter  my  second  cousin. 
If  I  may  be  pardoned  for  applying  so  unadmiring  an  epithet 
to  so  near  a  relative,  I  should  describe  this  young  person  as 
very  insipid-looking ;  very  undeveloped  for  her  age,  with  an 
unmistakable  flavor  of  bread-and-butter  and  pertness  ;  with 
rather  a  drawl  in  her  tone,  and  rather  a  pout  on  her  lips ; 
fair-skinned  and  fair-haired,  rather  pretty,  perhaps,  but  far 
from  lovable.  On  the  whole,  I  was  not  attracted  toward 
my  cousin  Grace,  but  I  kissed  her  dutifully,  and  held  her 
limp,  inexpressive  hand  a  minute  or  so  in  mine,  while  she 
said,  "  How  d'ye  do,  Mr.  Rutledge,"  in  a  drawling  voice, 
that  formed  a  striking  contrast  to  her  sister's  vivacious  tones. 

Before  very  long,  Mr.  Rutledge  turned  to  my  aunt,  and 
apologized  for  intruding  so  long  on  a  family  reunion,  and 
promising  himself  the  pleasure  of  waiting  on  her  very  soon 
again,  said  a  cordial  good  night.  There  had  been  some 
commenting  on  a  new  picture,  and  we  were  all  standing  in 
a  group  before  it,  at  the  other  end  of  the  dining-room,  when 
Mr.  Rutledge  took  his  leave.  There  were  many  jesting 
and  pleasant  words  exchanged  with  the  others  as  he  with 
drew,  having  shaken  hands  with  them.  I  had  shrunk  into 
the  background,  and  waited,  my  heart  in  my  throat,  to 
know  whether  I  was  forgotten,  when  he  suddenly  turned 
back,  before  he  reached  the  door,  and  said  : 


ntTTLEDGE.  219 

"  Pardon  I  Have  I  said  good  night  to  my  young  tra. 
relling  companion  ?  Ah  !  there  you  are.  I  am  afraid  you 
are  very  tired ;  I  am  not  sure  that  we  have  not  travelled 
too  fast  for  such  an  inexperienced  tourist." 

"  She  couldn't  have  done  Switzerland  at  our  pace,  last 
summer,  I  am  afraid,  could  she  ?"  said  Josephine,  compla 
cently. 

Mr.  Rutledge  made  some  rejoinder  complimentary  to 
Miss  Josephine's  powers  of  endurance,  then  concluded  his 
brief  adieux  to  me,  and  with  "  more  last  words "  to  the 
others,  withdrew.  Josephine  leaned  rather  listlessly  against 
the  mantelpiece,  said,  "  Mamma,  how  very  well  Mr.  Rut- 
ledge  is  looking !"  then  going  to  the  piano,  asked  me  if  I 
played,  and  sitting  down,  ran  her  fingers  lightly  over  the 
keys,  while  I  approached,  and  standing  by  her,  listened 
admiringly  to  her  delicate  and  masterly  touch.  I  felt 
stranger  and  forlorner  than  ever,  though,  as  she  played  on, 
talking  to  me  idly  as  she  played,  till  her  mother  called  to 
her,  rather  sharply : 

"  Josephine,  you  are  very  thoughtless  ;  don't  you  know 
she  is  tired  ?  Come,  my  dear,  you  had  better  go  upstairs 
immediately." 

Josephine  leaned  over  her  shoulder,  touched  my  cheek 
lightly  with  her  lips,  and  said,  "  Good-night ;  you'll  feel 
brighter  by  to-morrow." 

My  aunt  called  Grace  to  take  me  up  to  my  room,  kissed 
me'  good-night,  and  said  she  hoped  I  would  be  comfortable. 
Grace,  who  had  just  established  herself  at  her  embroidery, 
pouted  slightly,  and  said  in  French  (a  language  with  which, 
it  seemed  taken  for  granted,  I  was  unacquainted),  "  Why 
can't  Josephine  ?"  :  ising  slowly  to  obey,  nevertheless.  A 
few  sharp  words  silenced  her  speedily ;  another  silvery 
good-night  to  me,  and  I  followed  my  cousin  upstairs.  A 
more  cat-in-a-strange-garrety,  uncomfortable,  bewildered 
feeling  I  never  before  had  experienced  ;  from  Mr.  Rutledge 
down,  they  all  seemed  to  treat  me  as  if  I  were  somebody 


220  RUTLEDGE. 

else.  '*  If  I  be  I,  as  1  do  hope  I  be,"  I  ejaculated,  with  a 
miserable  attempt  at  a  laugh,  as  the  old  nursery  rhyme 
came  into  my  head,  "  perhaps  I  shall  know  myself  when  I 
am  left  alone  and  have  time  to  think."  But  Grace  did  not 
seem  inclined  to  allow  me  that  luxury;  for,  having  con 
ducted  me  to  my  room,  she  came  in,  and  did  the  honors 
rather  more  graciously  than  I  had  expected,  lit  the  gas, 
pulled  down  the  shades,  put  my  bonnet  and  cloak  away  in 
the  wardrobe,  and  then  sat  down  on  the  foot  of  the  bed, 
and  looked  at  me  with  great  appearance  of  interest.  The 
fact  was,  Grace  possessed,  in  no  ordinary  degree,  that  truly 
womanly  trait,  curiosity  ;  and  justly  considered,  that  as  she 
had  been  made  to  come  upstairs  against  her  will,  it  was  but 
fair  that  she  should  compensate  herself  in  any  lawful  way 
that  presented,  and  now  that  she  was  up  here,  to  see  as 
much  as  she  could  of  the  manners  and  habits  of  the  new 
comer. 

With  a  view  to  this  harmless  little  entertainment,  she 
began  her  investigations  by  saying : 

"  Where's  the  rest  of  your  baggage  ?     In  the  closet  ?" 

(She  was  leaning  over  the  balusters  when  my  trunk  waa 
brought  up,  and  knew,  as  well  as  I  did,  that  there  was  only 
one.) 

"No,"  I  said,  blushing,  "I  didn't  have  but  that 
trunk." 

Grace  squeezed  up  her  mouth  a  little,  but  didn't  make 
any  rejoinder. 

"  Do  you  like  your  room  ?"  she  asked,  after  a  minute. 

As  I  had  just  been  contrasting  it  mentally  with  the  blue 
room  at  Rutledge,  I  could  not  help  another  Hush,  and  a 
little  confusion,  as  I  replied  that  it  did  very  well. 

"Mamma  seemed  to  have  an  idea  that  you  were  quite  ti 
little  girl,"  she  continued,  "  and  that  this  was  very  nice  for 
you.  It  opens  out  of  the  nursery,  you  see,  and  if  you  don't 
mind  Esther's  squalling,  it  is  very  nice." 

She  laughed  a  little,  and  I  tried  to  smile  as  1  answered 


RL  TLEDGE.  '221 

that  I  liked  children,  and  should  not  mind  being  near  my 
little  cousin. 

"  I  hope  you'll  like  Esther,"  said  Grace,  with  a  shrug  of 
her  shoulders.  "  When  she  isn't  kicking  Felicie,  or  howl 
ing  to  be  taken  out,  or  squalling  after  mamma,  she's  sitting 
on  the  floor  in  the  sulks,  and  as  that's  the  least  troublesome 
of  her  moods,  nobody  interferes  with  her.  Oh,  she's  a 
sweet  child !" 

And  Grace's  laugh  sounded  more  like  thirty  than 
fifteen.  I  was  ashamed  of  myself  for  being  so  embarrassed 
and  abashed  by  a  girl  so  much  my  junior,  but  there  waa 
something  about  Grace  that  I  was  not  used  to  ;  a  sort  of 
gutta-percha  insensibility,  a  lazy  coolness  that  I  had  not 
expected  from  her  drawling,  listless  way.  Nothing  of  the 
woman  seemed  developed  in  her  but  the  sharpness ;  and 
with  that  she  was  born,  I  suppose.  She  was  still  a  little 
girl  in  her  tastes  and  pursuits  ;  loved  to  play  with  Esther, 
whom  I  afterward  found  she  bullied  and  teased  shamefully  ; 
did  not  aspire  to  beaux  and  young-ladyhood,  but  contented 
herself  with  keeping  the  sharpest  imaginable  lookout  upon 
the  concerns  of  every  one  in  the  house,  and  having  a  finger 
in  every  possible  pie  ;  being  at  once  the  pertest  and  most 
persevering  of  medlers. 

She  kept  up  a  desultory  talk  while  I  was  unbraiding  my 
hair  and  preparing  for  bed ;  asked  questions  that  galled 
me,  told  facts  that  discouraged  me,  till  I  was  fairly  heart 
sick,  and  would  have  been  willing  to  have  bought  her  off 
at  any  price  ;  and  looked  upon  the  advent  of  Felicie  with 
a  summons  from  madame  for  her,  as  the  most  blessed  re 
lease  that  could  have  been. 

I  locked  the  door  after  her  with  a  bursting  heart,  and 
threw  myself  upon  the  bed  in  an  agony  of  crying.  What 
would  have  been  merely  a  fit  of  homesickness,  and  a  loneli 
ness  soon  to  be  conquered  and  forgotten  with  girls  of  a 
different  temperament,  was  a  longer  and  more  lasting 
struggle  with  me.  It  was  wholesome  discipline,  no  doubt 


222  BUTLEDGE. 

but  now,  disheartened,  I  recognized  no  hope  in  all  the 
dark  horizon ;  saw  nothing  in  the  future  that  was  worth 
living  through  the  present  for ;  disappointment,  pain,  and 
loneliness  had  taken  the  color  out  of  every  hope,  and  made 
what  should  have  been  morning,  a  night,  and  that  of  the 
blackest. 

"  Would  it  last  ?"  was  a  question  I  asked  myself  even 
then,  the  dawning  reason  of  the  woman  within  me  combating 
the  passion  of  the  child.  "No,  no,"  reason  whispered; 
" '  to  mortals  no  sorrow  is  immortal ;'  the  storm  will  spend 
itself,  and  ca]m  of  some  kind  will  come." 

But  the  child's  heart  refused  to  be  comforted,  and  pas 
sionately  rejected  reason ;  there  was  no  truth  in  friend 
ship,  there  was  no  kindness  in  any  one  ;  there  was  nothing 
but  loneliness,  and  coldness,  and  cruelty  in  all  the  world. 


CHAPTER 

**  A  month  ago,  and  I  was  happy !    No, 
Not  happy — yet  encircled  by  deep  joy, 
Which,  though  'twas  all  around,  I  could  not  town. 
But  it  was  ever  thus  with  Happiness : 
It  is  the  gay  to-morrow  of  the  mind, 
That  never  comes." 

BARRY  CORNWALL. 

SLEEP,  which  proverbially  forsakes  the  wretched,  paid  but 
little  court  to  me  that  first  night  in  my  new  home  ;  my 
swollen  eyelids  were  sullied  with  too  many  tears,  in  truth, 
to  win  his  favorable  regard ;  but  toward  morning,  exhaus 
tion  and  unconsciousness  came  compassionately  to  relieve 
the  misery  and  wakefulness  that  had  guarded  my  pillow  all 
night ;  and  the  dull  light  of  a  winter  morning,  struggling  in 
through  the  half-drawn  curtains,  was  the  next  summons  that 
I  had  to  consciousness  again.  I  started  up,  aroused  more 
fully  by  a  sharp  pain  in  my  arm,  that  had  momentarily  been 
growing  harder,  till  it  had  succeeded,  with  the  aid  of  the 
advancing  daylight,  in  waking  me  thoroughly.  It  was  some 
seconds  before  I  knew  what  it  was  caused  by;  the  bracelet 
on  the  arm  that  had  been  under  my  head  had  been  pushed 
up  from  the  wrist,  and  in  that  way,  had  grown  tighter  and 
tighter,  till,  indeed,  the  pain  had  been  unendurable.  It 
brought  Mr.  Rutledge's  words  to  my  mind  strangely 
enough ;  with  a  blush  of  shame  and  pleasure,  I  bent  over 
the  souvenir ;  "  I  will  never  doubt  again,"  I  whispered,  sin 
cerely  repentant.  Heaviness  had  endured,  bitterly,  for  the 
night,  but  joy,  or  a  faint  and  tiny  promise  of  it,  had  as 
surely  come  in  the  morning ;  and  with  energy  and  some 
thing  like  happiness,  I  set  myself  to  make  the  best  of 
my  little  room,  and  my  new  position.  No  Kitty  to  braid 

K8 


224  EUTLEDOE. 

my  hair,  110  Kitty  to  unpack  my  trunk ;  so  the  sooner  I  got 
used  to  performing  those  little  offices  for  myself,  the  better, 
decidedly. 

"  Something  to  do "  was  the  kindest  boon  that  could 
have  been  given  me,  and  as  such,  I  received  it,  and  before 
the  house  was  astir  at  all,  I  had  unpacked  my  trunk, 
arranged  my  books  upon  the  table,  my  dresses  in  the  ward- 
j  obe,  and  the  little  knick-knacks  that  were  regarded  as 
decorative,  on  the  mantelpiece  and  under  the  dressing-glass. 
The  crayon-sketch  never  saw  the  daylight  in  Gramercy 
Square.  A  stolen  look  at  it,  now  and  then,  under  the  half- 
raised  lid  of  my  trunk,  was  all  I  ever  ventured  on. 

Mine  was  not  a  very  cheerful  or  attractive  room,  cer 
tainly  ;  but  I  should  soon  be  used  to  it,  I  reflected,  and  it 
would  seem  nice  enough.  Then  I  drew  up  the  shades,  and 
looked  out  with  much  interest  upon  my  first  daylight-view 
of  the  great  metropolis.  Certainly,  the  wrong  side  of  city 
houses  is  no  more  advantageous  a  view  of  them  than  is  the 
wrong  side  of  other  fabrics ;  and  in  proportion  as  the  velvet 
is  rich  and  gorgeous,  so  is  the  reverse  dull  and  plain.  My 
room  being  in  the  rear  of  the  house,  I  of  course  had  the 
benefit  of  the  wrong  side  of  the  neighboring  houses ;  which, 
I  will  do  them  the  justice  to  say,  were  as  dismal  and  unpre 
tending  as  houses  need  be.  They  had  all  of  them,  with  one 
consent,  put  their  best  foot  foremost ;  the  gorgeous  foot 
presented  to  the  street,  was  of  brown  stone,  plate  glass,  and 
carving ;  the  slip-shod  foot  left  in  the  background,  was 
dingy  for  want  of  paint,  unsightly  with  clothes-lines  and 
ash-barrels,  neglected  and  forlorn.  However,  I  thought 
cheerfully,  some  strange  comfort  attends  even  so  exalted  a 
state  as  "  two  pair  back ;"  there  was  an  unlimited  view  of 
the  sky,  much  greater  than  the  lower  rooms  could  com 
mand.  Indeed,  when  there  was  anything  but  lead-color 
overhead,  I  concluded  that  these  windows  must  be  very 
cheerful.  The  spire  of  a  church,  however,  not  far  off 
''which,  I  was  happy  to  observe,  had  no  wrong  side),  was 


235 

the  one  grace  of  the  prospect.  It  would  not  do  to  think  of 
the  way  in  which  the  mists  were  rolling  up  from  the  lake, 
this  grey,  hazy  morning,  nor  how  the  pines  on  its  bank 
were  reflected  in  its  still  surface ;  nor,  indeed,  at  all  of  the 
scene,  bold  and  picturesque  even  in  its  wintry  desolation, 
that  had  met  my  waking  vision  for  the  last  few  happy 
weeks. 

Late  breakfasts  were  apparently  the  order  of  the  day  in 
this  establishment ;  the  hands  of  my  watch  were  creeping 
around  toward  nine  o'clock,  and  still  no  indication  of  the 
approach  of  that  meal..  Beyond  the  occasional  smothered 
saund  of  a  broom  or  duster  in  the  hall,  there  had  been 
nothing  to  suggest  that  any  one  was  awake  throughout  the 
house,  except  a  fretful  little  voice  that  I  had  heard  at  inter 
vals  since  dawn,  in. the  room  next  mine.  Listening  very 
attentively,  I  found  that  it  proceeded  from  the  young 
t:  ublesome,  whose  picture  had  been  so  feelingly  drawn  for 
me  last  night  by  Grace.  She  was  evidently  importuning 
Felicie  to  get  up  and  dress  her ;  and  the  tone,  peevish  and 
whining  as  it  was,  had  a  sort  of  pathos  for  me,  remembering, 
as  I  too  distinctly  did,  the  cruel  punishment  that  it  is  to  a 
child  to  lie  in  bed  after  being  once  thoroughly  awake.  For 
two  hours,  little  Esther  had  been  tossing  about,  and  crying 
to  get  up,  and  the  only  response  she  had  received  from  her 
nurse,  had  been  now  and  then  a  sleepy  growl  or  an  impatient 
threat.  Injustice  always  irritated  me ;  besides,  I  had  a 
curiosity  to  see  this  child,  who  evidently  met  with  so  little 
favor,  and  time  was  hanging  rather  heavy  on  my  hands  just 
then,  so  I  went  to  the  door  that  communicated  with  the 
nursery,  and  opening  it  softly,  looked  in.  The  shutters 
being  darkened,  it  was  still  not  many  removes  from  dawn, 
and  I  could  but  dimly  make  out  the  dimensions  of  the 
large,  scantily  furnished  room  ;  but  there  was  light  enough 
for  me  to  see  the  figure  of  the  chili,  sitting  up  in  her 
little  bed,  crying  piteously,  "  Leve-toiy  Felicie,  j'ai  st 
froid" 

10* 


226  RI3TLEDGE. 

She  stopped  suddenly  on  seeing  me,  and  looked  up  in  my 
face  as  I  approached  her. 

"  Is  this  my  little  cousin  Essie  ?"  I  said,  sitting  down  on 
the  bed  and  taking  one  of  her  icy  little  hands  in  mine. 
Cold  she  certainly  was ;  the  fire  had  gone  out  entirely,  and 
she  had  been  sitting  up  undressed  so  long,  that  her  teeth 
were  chattering  and  her  lips  fairly  blue.  I  kissed  her  wet 
cheeks,  and  giving  her  to  understand  that  this  was  her  new 
cousin,  asked  if  she  was  not  going  to  be  very  fond  of  me  ? 
She  looked  more  amazed  than  before,  but  beyond  a  cessation 
of  her  tears,  she  made  no  attempt  at  a  rejoinder.  I  rubbed 
her  hands,  and  tried  to  warm  her  cold  little  feet,  talking  to 
her  kindly  all  the  time. 

"  Is  this  your  dressing-gown,  Essie  ?"  I  asked,  taking  up 
a  little  blue  flannel  garment  from  the  foot  of  the  bed.  She 
nodded  an  assent,  and  I  put  it  around  her 

"  Now,"  I  continued,  taking  her  up  in  my  arms,  "  will 
^ou  go  into  my  room  and  get  warm  by  my  fire  ?'• 

"  Yes,"  said  Esther,  laconically.  So  picking  up  her  shoes 
and  stockings,  I  raised  her  in  my  arms  and  carried  her  into 
the  other  room.  She  was  between  five  and  six  years  old, 
but  so  slight  and  childish  that  her  weight  was  nothing.  I 
sat  down  by  the  fire  and  held  her  in  my  lap,  while  I  put  on 
her  shoes  and  stockings,  and  warmed  her  into  something 
like  animation. 

"  So  Felicie  wouldn't  wake  up,"  I  said,  at  length. 

I  had  touched  the  right  chord ;  the  vehement  childish 
sense  of  wrong  was  stirred,  and  with  eager,  blundering 
earnestness,  she  detailed  her  grievances.  Felicie  never 
would  wake  up ;  Felicie  wouldn't  give  her  a  drink  of  water 
some  nights  when  she  was  so  thirsty  ;  Felicie  left  her  alone 
sometimes  when  it  was  so  dark  ;  and  Felicie  was  cross,  and 
Felicie  was  wicked,  and,  in  fine,  she  hated  her. 

'  I  shook  my  head  at  this,  and  gave  her  a  little  moral  lec 
ture  upon  the  wickedness  of  hating  nurses,  further  illustrat 
ing  and  embellishing  my  subject  by  the  s^ory  of  a  little  girl 


RUTLEDQE.  227 

who  had  once  indulged  in  that  dreadful  passion,  and  had 
come  to  a  very  sad  end  in  consequence.  The  moral  lecture, 
I  am  afraid,  was  overlooked ;  but  the  story  was  most  greed 
ily  received,  and  I  was  obliged  to  succeed  it  with  another 
and  another,  before  I  could  induce  her  to  go  and  get  her 
clothes,  and  let  me  put  them  on  for  her.  When  she  was 
nearly  dressed,  Felieie  woke  up,  and  not  finding  her  young 
charge  in  bed,  was  somewhat  startled  and  unmistakably 
angry,  and  in  no  dulcet  tones  was  calling  her  name,  when 
she  looked  into  my  room,  and,  on  seeing  me,  sank  suddenly 
into  a  softer  strain,  and  apologized  for  oversleeping :  she 
had  had  such  a  wakeful  night,  was  not  Avell,  etc.,  and 
Avould  Mademoiselle  Esther  come  and  have  her  hair  brushed 
now  ? 

Mademoiselle  Esther,  a  moment  before  the  quietest,  gen 
tlest  child  alive,  had,  at  the  sound  of  that  voice,  flushed  up 
into  angry  defiance,  and  planting  herself  at  my  side,  met 
her  nurse's  advance  with  a  very  ugly  scowl.  She  wouldn't 
go  and  have  her  hair  brushed ;  she  didn't  want  a  nice  clean 
apron  on  ;  she  didn't  care  if  she  was  late  for  breakfast ;  and 
Felicie,  though  she  never  lost  the  bland  tone  she  had  as 
sumed,  looked  malignant  enough  to  have  "  shaken  her  out 
of  her  shoes  and  stockings."  At  length  I  persuaded  her  to 
submit  to  Felicie's  proposals,  and  be  made  ready  to  go 
down  to  breakfast  with  me,  and  she  held  very  firm  pos 
session  of  my  hand,  as,  after  the  bell  had  rung,  we  descended 
the  stairs. 

My  aunt  was  already  below  ;  Grace  and  Josephine  strag 
gled  in  after  long  intervals;  indeed,  we  were  half  through 
breakfast  before  they  came  down.  My  aunt  looked  charm 
ingly  in  her  fresh  morning  dress  and  pretty  cap,  was  very 
kind,  gave  Esther  and  me  her  cheek  to  kiss,  and,  after  read* 
ing  the  paper,  talked  to  me  somewhat.  Esther  seemed  not 
to  have  much  appetite ;  but  having  set  her  heart  upon  a 
roll  and  some  cold  chicken,  her  mamma  had  graciously 
allo  tfed  her  to  be  gratified,  and  she  was  very  tranquilly  eat 


228  IS  TLT  L  K  D  G  E  . 

ing  her  breakfast,  when  the  entrance  of  Grace,  who  made 
some  teasing  little  gesture  as  she  passed,  made  her  pout  and 
whine,  and  disturbed  her  serenity  considerably.  It  was 
not,  however,  till  Grace,  calling  to  the  servant  for  some  mar 
malade,  suggested  a  forbidden  dainty  to  her  mind,  and  she 
exclaimed,  "I  want  marmalade,  too,"  that  the  worst 
came. 

Grace  interposes  pertly,  "  You  can't  have  any — mamma 
&ays  you  can't ;"  Essie  passionately  protests,  "  I  will ;" 
mamma  sharply  interposes,  "  You  shall  not ;"  a  burst  of 
tears  from  Essie,  and  a  smothered  titter  from  Grace,  then 
Essie  passionately  pushes  back  her  plate,  and  refuses  to 
touch  another  mouthful ;  whereon  mamma  asserts  her 
authority,  and  sternly  orders  her  to  resume  her  biscuit  and 
chicken  under  pain  of  banishment.  The  sobbing  child  does 
not,  cannot,  I  think,  obey,  and,  at  the  end  of  an  ominous 
silence,  mamma  motions  John  to  remove  her  from  the  table, 
which  is  effected  after  violent  resistance  and  struggling,  and 
amid  a  tempest  of  screams  and  protestations,  exit  Essie  in 
the  arms  of  John. 

It  was  well  that  my  aunt  did  not  order  me  to  resume  my 
breakfast.  After  that  little  episode,  I  am  afraid  I  should 
have  been  unable  to  obey,  and  I  should  not  have  liked  to 
have  been  carried  out  in  the  arms  of  John.  Josephine  ex 
claimed  upon  the  nuisance  of  crying  children ;  Grace 
laughed  slily,  as  if  she  thought  it  capital  fun ;  mamma 
sighed  over  the  strange  perverseness  and  dreadful  tempei 
of  that  child ;  but  my  heart  ached  for  the  wretched  little 
exile.  How  Felicie  would  gloat  over  her  disgrace,  I  knew , 
how  indigestion,  injustice,  and  mortification,  would  bring 
on  a  fit  of  the  sulks  that  would  last  half  the  day,  and  pave 
the  way  for  the  repetition  of  a  similar  scene  at  lunch.  Per 
haps  because  I  had  been  a  willful,  sensitive,  and  passionate 
child  myself,  I  knew  how  to  appreciate  the  disadvantages 
under  which  poor  little  Essie  labored.  I  knew  what  ex 
quisite  tenderness  and  gentleness  were  necessary  to  guard 


BUT  LEDGE.  229 

that  sensitiveness  from  turning  into  the  very  gall  of  bitter- 
ness,  and  that  quick  temper  from  becoming  the  uncontroll 
able  and  damning  passion  that  would  blight  her  whole  life. 
More  watchful  care,  more  prayerful  earnestness,  does  such 
a  child's  rearing  require,  than  if  she  had  been  laid  upon  her 
mother's  love,  a  moaning  cripple,  or  a  blind  and  helpless 
sufferer.  Just  as  soul  is  more  precious  than  body,  so  is  the 
responsibility  heavier,  the  task  more  awful,  of  training  an<7 
molding  such  a  sensitive  nature,  to  whose  morbid  fancy  a 
cold  repulse  is  a  cruel  blow,  and  an  impatient  word  a  rank 
ling  wound.  The  tenderest  and  most  yearning  love  should 
surround  and  guard  such  a  child's  career,  putting  aside  with 
careful  hand  the  snares  and  trials  that  beset  the  way  of  life, 
till  the  maturing  judgment  shall  have  learned  to  control  the 
exaggerated  fancy.  The  winds  of  heaven  should  not  be 
suffered  to  visit  too  roughly  such  a  restless  and  unquiet 
heart,  till  the  uncertain  mists  of  dawn  and  early  morning 
have  melted  before  the  clear  and  certain  day.  Between 
the  rough  and  torturing  world  and  the  scared  and  shrink 
ing  soul,  the  mother's  love  should  interpose,  shielding, 
soothing,  reassuring.  God  meant  it  to  be  so  ;  may  His  pity 
be  the  guard  of  the  little  ones,  whom  death,  the  world,  the 
flesh,  or  the  devil,  have  defrauded  of  their  right ! 

.No  one  could  look  at  my  hollow-eyed  and  puny  little 
cousin,  with  that  unhappy  and  un child-like  contraction  of  the 
brow,  and  that  troubled  expression  of  the  eyes,  without 
knowing  that  she  was  of  a  nervous  temperament  the  most 
excitable  and  keen,  and  of  a  will  and  temper  the  strongest. 
To  Josephine's  spirit  and  Grace's  acuteness,  she  added  an 
almost  morbid  sensitiveness  and  delicacy  of  organization, 
of  which  they  were  entirely  innocent,  and  which  they  could 
in  no  way  comprehend.  That  she  did  not  inherit  it  from 
her  mother,  was  pretty  evident ;  Grace  was  the  nearest 
copy  of  the  maternal  model ;  "  la  petite  "  was  altogether  a 
stranger  and  an  alien,  not  understood  and  not  attractive, 
Her  mother  had  never  forgiven  her  sex ;  a  boy  had 


230  E  D  T  L  E  D  G  E  . 

the  darling  wish  of  both  parents,  and  this  third  disappoint 
ment  had  not  been  graciously  received,  at  least  by  the 
mother ;  for  I  believe  "  the  baby  "  had  held  a  tender  part 
in  her  father's  heart  during  the  two  years  of  her  life  whicfi 
he  lived  to  see.  Perhaps  my  uncle  would  have  understood 
the  wayward  child  better  than  his  wife  did,  had  he  lived  to 
see  her  develop ;  there  must  have  been,  I  was  sure,  depths 
of  gentleness  and  tenderness  in  his  heart ;  for  though  he 
was  almost  a  stranger  to  me,  living  as  we  had  done,  so  far 
from  the  world  in  which  he  had  held  a  busy  part,  still  he 
was  my  mother's  only  brother,  and  they  had  never  forgot 
ten  their  early  affection.  The  recollection  of  it  helped  me 
to  bear  with  patience  the  caprices  and  willfulness  of  his  little 
daughter;  for,  pity  her  as  I  might,  there  was  no  denying 
that  Esther  was  a  very  vexatious  and  trying  child,  and 
there  certainly  was  a  very  fair  excuse  for  the  disaffection 
of  the  household.  How  far  the  household  had  to  thank 
themselves  for  it,  however,  was  another  matter,  and  one 
which  I  thought  would  have  repaid  investigation. 

The  scene  consequent  upon  the  Marmalade  Act,  must 
have  been  no  novelty  in  the  Churchill  breakfast,  for  the 
waves  closed  over  poor  Essie's  banishment  in  an  instant, 
and  things  resumed  their  smooth  and  unruffled  appearance 
almost  immediately.  The  next  disturbance  they  received, 
was  in  the  form  of  a  sharp  ring  at  the  bell,  which  caused 
Josephine,  without  raising  her  eyes  from  the  paper  she  was 
reading,  to  adjust  with  better  grace  the  sweep  of  her  dress 
upon  the  carpet,  and  to  present  to  view  an  eighth  of  an  inch 
more  of  the  rosette  on  her  slipper ;  while  Grace,  looking 
up  from  her  plate,  said  saucily : 

"  What's  the  use,  Joseph  ?  It's  too  early  for  anybody 
but  Phil ;  and  you  know  you  don't  care  for  Phil." 

Josephine  gave  her  a  snapping  look  out  of  her  black 
eyes,  and  if  there  had  been  time,  no  doubt  would  have 
made  good  their  promise  of  a  tart  rejoinder,  but  the  open 
ing  of  the  door,  and  the  entrance  of  the  six  feet  two  inchea 


RTJTLEDGE.  231 

of  inauliness,  known  and  described  as  "  Phil,"  prevented 
its  consummation.  I  did  not  know  at  the  time,  but  I  soon 
did  know,  who  and  what  this  privileged  Phil-  was,  who  was 
so  much  at  home  at  my  aunt's  house,  and  so  well  received 
and  constant  a  guest. 

Philip  Arbuthnot  was,  it  appeared,  my  Aunt  Edith's  only 
nephew,  and  the  most  invaluable  and  untiring  of  escorts ; 
caipplying  the  place,  in  short,  only  too  willingly,  of  son  and 
brother  to  his  aunt  and  her  unprotected  daughters.  In  the 
matter  of  securing  opera  boxes  and  concert  tickets,  cashing 
drafts,  looking  after  the  family  interest  in  Wall  street, 
having  a  general  supervision  of  the  stable,  keeping  coachman, 
footman,  and  waiter  in  wholesome  awe,  and  in  a  thousand 
other  ways,  he  was  of  inestimable  service.  What  the  family 
would  have  come  to  without  him,  is  too  painful  a  specula 
tion  to  be  entered  upon  unnecessarily.  Figaro-ci,  Figaro- 
la,  and  Figaro  liking  nothing  better  than  his  occupation. 
He  bent  his  whole  mind  to  it ;  I  never  could  discover  that 
he  had  any  other  interest  or  employment  in  life ;  lounging 
around  to  Gramercy  Square  after  breakfast,  embellishing 
the  library  sofa  with  his  listless  length  till  lunch,  while 
Josephine  practised,  or  my  aunt  talked  business  with  him. 
Then,  at  one  o'clock,  after  putting  them  in  the  carriage 
(he  was  not  a  ladies'  man,  and  hated  morning  visits),  Phrl 
would  lounge  back  to  the  Clarendon,  and  by  dint  of  a 
series  of  smokes  in  the  reading-room,  an  hour  or  so  at  bil 
liards,  and  a  drive  on  the  road,  would  manage  to  get  rid 
of  the  day,  and,  at  or  about  five  o'clock,  would  lounge 
back  again  to  Gramercy  Square  for  dinner  and  the  engage 
ments  of  the  evening.  He  had  been  educated  at  West 
Point,  and  though  he  had  not,  strictly  speaking,  covered 
himself  with  glory,  at  the  rather  searching  examination  of 
that  rigorous  old  institution,  just  passing  and  that  was  all, 
they  said,  escaping  emphatically  by  the  skin  of  his  teeth, 
stiil  he  had  been  in  a  very  fair  way  of  promotion,  when, 
just  before  the  departure  of  his  aunt's  family  tor  Europe, 


232  RUTLEDGE 

he  had  unexpectedly  and  abruptly  resigned,  and  accompa 
nied  them.  Having  inherited  a  fortune  just  large  enough 
to  serve  as  a  narcotic  to  ambition  and  energy,  and  just 
moderate  enough  to  prevent  his  playing  any  prominent 
part  in  Vanity  Fair,  Phil  seemed  in  the  enjoyment  of  an 
existence  very  much  to  his  taste,  and  entirely  satisfying  to 
him.  If,  in  my  crude  and  enthusiastic  view  of  life,  it  struck 
me  as  an  existence  at  once  debasing  to  his  nature,  and  dis 
honest  to  his  manliness,  it  was  because  I  had  not  yet 
learned  that  what  one-third  of  the  men,  and  two-thirds  of 
the  women  in  society  look  upon  as  the  proper  business  of 
their  lives,  must,  in  the  nature  of  things,  be  the  correct 
view  of  the  subject.  "  The  night  cometh  when  no  mau 
can  work,"  I  thought,  in  my  simplicity ;  the  day,  at  best,  is 
but  a  short  and  uncertain  one ;  for  every  soul  sent  on  earth 
there  is  a  work  allotted ;  what  less  than  madness  is  it  for 
the  strong  man  to  lie  down  in  his  strength  and  sleep  away 
this  day  of  grace  ?  Seeing  that  the  undone  work  does  not 
fade  with  the  fading  daylight,  but  an  evergrowing  and  thick 
ening  shadow,  will  horribly  increase  the  blackness  of  that 
night ;  will  be  atreasure  of  wrath  against  that  time  of  wrath, 
and  the  perdition  of  such  men  as  have  chosen  to  be  ungodly. 

Such  naive  and  impracticable  ideas  as  these,  would,  no 
doubt,  have  brought  an  avalanche  of  ridicule  on  my  head, 
had  I  been  unwise  enough  to  impart  any  of  them  to  my  new 
friends  ;  but  a  protective  instinct  kept  me  from  such  a 
blunder  ;  and  as  I  hourly  saw  with  clearer  eyes  the  dissimi 
larity  between  them  and  me,  so  I  hourly  grew  more 
reserved  and  silent. 

"  Don't  she  ever  say  anything  ?"  I  could  not  help  over 
hearing  Phil  ask,  as  I  left  the  breakfast-room.  I  longed  to 
hear  Josephine's  reply  ;  but  an  inconvenient  sentiment  of 
honor  prevented  my  stopping  to  listen  for  it.  I  could  not, 
however,  avoid  being  auditor  to  the  lazy  laugh  that  it 
elicited  from  Phil,  and  the  blotd  mounted  to  my  temples  at 
the  sound. 


BUT  LEDGE.  235 

"  I  wonder  if  they  think  me  stupid  or  sulky,"  I  said  to 
myself.  "I  wonder  if  they  ever  thought  how  it  must  feel 
to  be  a  stranger  in  the  midst  of  people  who  know  and 
understand  each  other.  I  wonder  if  I  ever  shall  be  one  of 
them." 

There  was  another,  however,  of  the  household  that  I  felt 
pretty  sure  was  as  much  a  stranger  and  an  alien  as  I  was, 
though  she  had  spent  nearly  six  years  in  it,  and  I  turned 
my  steps  naturally  to  the  nursery.  Poor  little  Essie  had, 
as  I  expected,  fretted  and  cried  herself  into  a  sick  head 
ache,  and  was  sitting  sulkily  in  a  remote  corner  of  the 
room,  her  doll  untouched  beside  her,  and  her  hands  in  her 
lap.  Felicie,  sitting  by  the  window  with  a  sardonic  smile 
on  her  lips,  employed  herself  about  ripping  up  an  evening 
dress  of  Josephine's.  I  called  to  Essie  to  come  into  my 
room ;  she  pouted  and  averted  her  head.  I  made  a  coaxing 
promise  of  "  something  pretty,"  when  Felicie  interposed 
"that  she  was  in  disgrace, .and  perhaps  mademoiselle  had 
better  not  speak  to  her,  as  her  mamma  had  sent  her  up  for 
a  punishment." 

*'  Her  mamma  did  not  mean  that  she  should  be  made 
unhappy  for  all  the  morning,  however,"  I  said,  advancing 
boldly.  * 

"  As  mademoiselle  pleases,"  answered  Felicie,  with  a  very 
wicked  look,  and  a  very  sweet  voice. 

Esther  at  length  accepted  my  overtures,  and  consented 
to  heal  her  bosom's  woe  with  a  picture-book  and  a  bon-bon 
out  of  my  trunk.  I  shut  the  door  between  my  room  and 
the  nursery  very  tight,  and  gradually  Essie's  fretful  unhap- 
piness  relaxed  into  something  like  childish  enjoyment,  in 
the  comparative  cheerfulness  of  my  room,  and  the  exertions 
I  made  for  her  entertainment.  She  possessed  the  charac 
teristic,  very  rare  and  invaluable  among  children,  of  being 
easily  amused,  and  also  of  continuing  amused  for  a  long 
while,  with  the  same  thing.  So  it  happened,  that  tho 
picture-book  did  not  pall  upon  her  taste,  nor  the  bon 


KUT  LEDGE. 

lose  its  charm,  for  two  full  hours,  and  she  was  still  sitting 
demm*e  as  a  kitten  beside  me,  while  I  worked  and  occasion 
ally  explained  to  her  the  pictures,  when  Aunt  Edith  entered. 
She  had  evidently  forgotten  the  occurrence  of  the  morning, 
and  seemed  very  well  pleased  to  find  us  both  so  well  pro 
vided  for.  After  looking  about  the  room,  and  ascertaining 
that  I  had  everything  that  I  needed,  she  sat  down  by  the 
fire,  and  resumed  the  estimate  she  had  been  interrupted  in 
making  up  last  night.  The  conscious  blood  dyed  my  cheeks, 
the  faltering  words  found  only  awkward  and  constrained 
utterance ;  the  more  my  aunt  tried  to  read  me,  the  more 
blurred  and  unreadable  did  I  become.  She  tried  me  upon 
all  possible  questions — school,  and  its  studies  and  routine ; 
Rutledge,  and  my  visit  there ;  the  journey,  and  my  escort. 
Upon  all  points,  I  was  equally  unsatisfactory,  and  the  inter 
view  had  but  one  decisive  result,  which  I  attained  only  by 
great  effort.  I  had  determined  that  whenever  I  should 
have  a  chance,  I  would  ask  a  favor  of  my  aunt ;  and  this 
appearing  a  fitting  opportunity,  with  many  misgivings  and 
much  trepidation,  I  propounded  it  to  her ;  and  was  unspeak 
ably  relieved  and  surprised  to  find  that  she  not  only  acqui 
esced  in,  but  most  cordially  approved  of  the  motion.  It  was 
to  the  effect,  that  for  this  winter,  I  should  be  excused  from 
going  at  all  into  society,  and  might  be  allowed  to  study  and 
improve  myself. 

The  proposal,  I  saw,  relieved  my  aunt's  mind  from  some 
weight  that  had  encumbered  it.     She  agreed  with  me  most 

o  o 

heartily  in  considering  it  much  the  most  judicious  course. 
I  was  really  too  young  to  go  into  society ;  she  had  never 
ceased  to  regret  having  brought  out  Josephine  so  early; 
next  winter  I  should  be  so  much  better  fitted  to  enjoy  it, 
etc.  The  plans  for  the  employment  of  my  time  were  very 
soon  arranged.  I  was  to  share  Grace's  French  and  German 
lessons,  and  to  read  history  and  philosophy  with  her,  under 
the  guidance  of  one  Mr.  Olrnan,  a  young  and  inexpensive 
professor  of  literature  and  the  belles-lettres,  who  came 


BUTLEDGE. 

three  times  a  week.  My  hours  of  study  and  recitation 
"Were  all  distinctly  marked  out,  and  it  was  agreed  I 
should  begin  that  very  day.  Grace  was  sent  to  bring  me 
her  French  grammar  and  show  me  the  lesson,  and  after 
lunch,  we  were  summoned  to  the  study  (a  small  front 
room  on  the  second  story),  to  meet  Mr.  Olman,  our  literary 
professor.  ' 

Certainly,  if  I  had  looked  upon  Grace  as  a  marvel  of 
sharpness  last  night,  my  respect  for  her  in  that  regard, 
suffered  no  diminution  after  seeing  the  manner  in  which  she 
slipped  through  Mr.  Olman's  literary  fingers,  and  came  out 
triumphant  at  the  end  of  the  two  hours,  without  the  vaguest 
idea  of  what  he  had  been  laboring  at.  She  hated  history, 
philosophy,  and  the  belles-lettres,  and  never  thought  of 
preparing  the  abstracts  and  reviews  that  he  requested;  and 
as  he  was  unspeakably  afraid  of  her  himself,  she  found  no 
difficulty  in  eluding  the  detested  tasks.  He  was  a  slim 
young  man,  dressing  in  black  and  wearing  spectacles — very 
nervous  and  very  much  given  to  blushing.  Indeed,  his  face, 
at  the  end  of  the  lesson,  was  ordinarily  of  a  violent  rose  de 
chine  color,  and  his  hands  so  trembling  and  cold,  that  it  was 
a  great  relief  to  me  when  he  succeeded  in  collecting  his 
books  and  papers  and  getting  on  his  overcoat.  I  never  saw 
so  merciless  a  persecution;  the  slyest,  "  cutest,"  and  the  most 
naive  way  of  tripping  him  up  in  the  full  tide  of  his  discourse, 
and  then  bewailing  her  mistake ;  never  by  any  chance 
omitting  an  opportunity  of  making  him  blush  and  putting 
him  in  an  agony  of  nervousness.  I  am  certain,  so  acutely 
did  he  suffer  at  her  hands,  that  if  in  an  unguarded  moment 
he  had  been  brought  to  acknowledge  who  of  all  others  he 
most  detested  and  dreaded,  he  would  have  answered, 
unhesitatingly,  "my  pupil,  from  tAVO  to  four,  on  Monday, 
Wednesday  and  Friday." 

Indignant  as  I  felt  at  Grace,  it  was  no  easy  matter  tc 
keep  from  laughing  at  the  results  of  her  pertness  and 
dplomb;  and  notwithstanding  Mr.  Olman  was  evidently  s 


236  KUTLEDGE. 

well-read  and  cultivated  scholar,  I  anticipated  in  these 
lessons  more  of  pain  than  of  pleasure;  and  although  I 
determined  to  apply  myself  thoroughly  to  all  he  directed, 
still,  four  o'clock  was,  and  would,  I  feared,  continue  to  be, 
a  release. 

At  dinner,  that  evening,  Grace  gave  the  bulletin  of  "  Mr. 
Olman's  latest,"  and  though  her  mother  reproved  her,  no 
one  thought  it  necessary  to  discourage  her  by  not  laughing. 
Phil's  "Ha!  ha!"  was  honest  and  unequivocal  ;  he  meant, 
he  declared,  some  day  to  secrete  himself  under  the  piano, 
and  see  Grace  put  the  professor  to  rout  and  confusion. 
He  hated  professors,  for  his  part,  and  he'd  like  to  see  'ern 
all  put  to  rout  and  confusion. 

"  Professors  arn't  in  your  line,  are  they,  Phil  ?"  said 
Grace,  with  a  laugh. 

"  I  beg,  Phil,"  exclaimed  Josephine,  "  that  you'll  never 
present  yourself  unexpectedly  to  that  wretched  man.  I 
am  sure  he'd  swoon  at  the  sight  of  your  breadth  of  shoul 
der  and  length  of  limb.  You'd  make  at  least  three  of  him." 

"  Say  four,"  put  in  Grace.  "  The  professor  doesn't  weigh 
an  ounce  over  thirty-five  pounds.  I  asked  him,  the  other 
day,  apropos  of  ancient  weights  and  measures,  if  he'd  ever 
been  weighed,  and  what  the  result  was." 

"  You  saucy  child,"  said  Phil,  "  I  wonder  he  didn't  box 
your  ears." 

"  No  danger  of  that,"  responded  Grace,  complacently. 
"  The  professor  knows  better  than  to  quarrel  with  his  bread 
and  butter ;  he  knows  that  pupils  don't  grow  on  every  bush, 
and  it  would  take  a  great  deal  more  than  that  to  provoke 
him  into  a  retort.  He  only  bites  his  lips,  and  grows  red  in 
the  face,  and  says,  "  This  is  irrelevant,  Miss  Churchill." 

"  Upon  my  word,"  said  Josephine,  with  a  sneer,  "  by  the 
time  the  poor  man  finishes  your  education,  I  think  he'll  be 
fit  to  "^e  translated  to  his  reward,  without  any  further  so- 
iourn  in  the  church  militant.  No  honest  council  would 
deny  him  canonization  after  such  a  fiery  trial." 


R  U  T  L  E  D  G  E  .  237 

"Poor  old  Mabire  must  have  a  high  place  by  this  time, 
if  his  reward  is  at  all  proportioned  to  his  sufferings,"  said 
Grace,  slily.  "  You  remember,  Josephine,  how  sweet  you 
used  to  be  to  that  old  man  ?  I  liked  to  h'sten  at  the  study 
door,  and  hear  him  walk  up  and  down  the  floor,  and  grind 
his  teeth  and  gasp,  '  C'est  trop,  c'est  trop  !'  I  suppose  the 
bread-and-butter  question  prevented  his  speaking  to  mamma; 
but,  really,  you  must  confess,  he  was  a  victim !  Now  I 
never  go  the  lengths  of  biting  and  scratching,  but  always 
confine  myself  to  " 

"  Grace,  mon  ange,"  cried  Josephine,  flushing  up  angrily, 
"  if  you  don?t  want  to  be  sent  to  take  your  meals  in  the 
nursery,  you  had  better  learn  to  be  less  pert  and  " 

"  Truthtul's  the  word  you  want,  dear,"  drawled  Grace, 
unconcernedly. 

"  It's  the  last  word  I  should  think  of  applying  to  you," 
retorted  her  sister. 

"  Tout  doucement,  cherie  /"  ejaculated  Grace,  squeezing 
up  her  mouth. 

But  at  this  juncture,  mamma,  who  had  been  engaged  in 
opening  some  notes  and  cards  of  invitation  that  John  had 
brought  in,  now  becoming  aroused  to  a  sense  of  the  im 
pending  storm,  came  to  the  rescue,  and  in  a  few  cutting 
words  used  up  everybody  present,  Phil  and  myself  included, 
and  restored  a  forced  peace ;  and  during  the  remainder  of 
the  meal,  Josephine  sulked,  Phil  looked  heartily  distressed, 
and  I  felt  miserably  uncomfortable,  Grace  alone  preserving 
an  unmoved  and  complacent  demeanor.  It  was  just  as  we 
had  finished  dessert,  that  there  came  a  ring  at  the  bell  that 
made  me  start.  Foolish  as  it  was,  I  had  been  listening  to 
the  bell  all  day,  with  a  vague  kind  of  hope  that  it  would 
prove  of  interest  to  me ;.  and  when  John  presented  a  card 
to  my  aunt,  which  contained  the  only  familiar  name  to  me 
in  this  strange  place,  and,  in  fact,  the  only  name  I  cared  fc> 
see,  I  really  feared  that  Grace's  quick  ear  would  catch  the 


238  RUTLEDGE. 

loud  throbbing  of  my  heart,  as  she  surely  did  catch  the 
quick  blush  on  my  cheeks. 

"  It  is  Mr.  Rutledge,"  said  my  aunt.  "  Josephine,  will 
you  go  into  the  parlor,  and  I  will  join  you  in  a  moment  ? 
Phil,  may  I  ask  you  to  look  over  that  deed  we  were  speak 
ing  of  this  morning  ?  The  library  is  vacant ;  I  suppose  you 
do  not  want  to  be  interrupted.  And  you,  young  ladies  (to 
Grace  and  me),  will  find  a  good  fire  in  the  study,  and  an 
excellent  chance  for  preparing  your  German  for  to-mor 
row.  Mr.  Waschlager,  you  know,  comes  at  ten  on  Thurs 
days." 

Josephine,  with  a  coquettish  look  in  the  glass,  hurried  off 
to  the  parlor  ;  Phil  accepted  his  lot  with  a  resigned  sigh  ,• 
Grace  grumblingly  obeyed,  and  I  followed  her,  biting  my 
lips,  and  struggling  to  keep  back  the  tears  of  disappoint 
ment,  as  I  heard,  through  the  half  open  door,  a  familiar 
voice  and  laugh,  that  my  homeoick  ear  had  been  longing 
for  all  day. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 


-"  Sweet  heaven,  she  takes  me  up 


As  if  she  had  fingered  me,  and  dog-eared  me, 
And  spelled  me  by  the  fire-side,  half  a  life  ! 
She  knows  my  turns,  my  feeble  points." 

E.  B.  BROWNING. 

CHKISTMAS  came  and  passed  ;  my  birthday  came  and 
passed ;  the  holidays  were  "  over  and  done,"  and  we  were 
busily  at  work  again  with  our  various  professors ;  and,  in  my 
heart,  I  acknowledged  that  I  liked  work  better  than  play 
in  my  new  home.  Sundays  and  holidays  were  the  times 
that  tried  my  soul.  I  do  not  mean  in  church ;  Christmas 
anthems,  Christmas  hopes  and  aspirations  had  never  before 
touched  me  so  deeply  as  now,  when  there  was  so  much  of 
dullness  and  coldness  in  the  world  outside.  In  church  I 
did  not  feel  my  loneliness  so  much,  but  it  was  the  coming 
back  to  the  frivolity  and  uncongeniality  of  home  that  left 
the  greatest  blank.  I  do  not  mean  to  suggest,  that  during 
all  these  weeks  I  had  been  as  pining  and  heartsick  as  I  had 
been  on  the  first  day  of  my  initiation.  That  day,  it  is  true, 
had  been  a  fair  index  of  the  rest,  but  the  acute  disappoint 
ment  and  pain  had  worn  off,  and  I  had  learned  to  make  the 
best  of  it,  and  to  go  through  my  daily  routine  with  a  less 
heavy,  but  perhaps  an  emptier  and  less  hoping  heart.  "  The 
ox,  when  he  is  weary,  treads  surest."  I  was  weary  and 
unhopeful,  and  so,  perhaps,  trod  more  safely  the  somewhat 
devious  and  perplexing,  path  that  lay  before  me.  If  the 
subduing  effect  of  a  keenly  felt  and  unkind  disappointment, 
and  a  miserable  loneliness  and  want  of  sympathy,  had  not 
kept  my  impetuosity  and  self-will  in  check.  I  perhaps  should 
not  have  passed  with  so  little  injury  through  scenes  that 


240  BTJTLEDGE. 

were  quite  new  and  bewildering  to  rne.  As  it  was,  I  was 
sad  enough  to  think,  sober  enough  to  choose,  and  yet  young 
and  elastic  enough  not  to  be  crushed  by  the  weight  of  my 
trial,  but  to  bow  and  fit  myself  to  the  yoke.  I  reasoned  in 
a  TV  ay  that  was  childish  in  its  simplicity,  and  yet  wise  in  its 
unworldlmess. 

"  1  have  been  very  presumptuous  and  vain,"  I  thought. 
u  I  have  fancied  myself  the  companion  and  friend  of  one  who, 
by  forgetting  me,  has  shown  me  my  mistake,  while  there 
was  yet  time  to  correct  it.  I  have  been  indulging  in  a  very 
foolish,  though  a  very  happy,  dream ;  but  as  long  as  he 
knows  nothing  of  it,  I  am  certain  I  can  conquer  it  in  time, 
and  be  more  humble  for  the  rest  of  my  life.  I  have  not 
found  much  sympathy  or  love  in  the  only  home  I  shall  pro 
bably  ever  have ;  I  don't  suppose  I  shall  ever  be  particularly 
happy  again,  but  there  is  something  higher  than  mere  hap 
piness  that  I  can  try  to  gain,  and  make  myself  worthy  of 
that  communion  of  saints  in  which  I  have  been  taught  to 
believe ;  stretching  through  earth  and  heaven,  of  all  kin 
dreds  and  peoples  and  tongues,  among  whom  I  have  no 
present  comrade,  it  is  true,  but  there  is  one  saint  at  rest, 
who  has  no  other  care  than  her  child's  peace — who. loved 
me  better  than  all  the  world  beside,  when  she  was  here — 
who  Avill  not  forget  her  love  and  tenderness  in  the  rest  that 
she  has  entered  into." 

And  so,  with  a  humbled  heart,  I  set  myself  to  the 
"trivial  round,  the  common  task,"  that  gave  me,  indeed, 
much  room  for  self-denial  and  patience,  but  gave  me,  too, 
the  peace  that  impatience  and  resistance  never  would  have 
brought.  Much  there  was,  indeed,  of  error  and  foil}-, 
many  mistaken  steps  and  struggles  of  conscience,  much 
sinning  and  repenting,  but,  on  the  whole,  it  was  a 
straighter  and  a  safer  path  than  a  pleasanter  one  would 
have  been.  There  was,  in  truth,  little  danger  of  being '  in 
love  with  the  world,  seen  from  the  stand-point  I  had  been 
placed  in. 


RUTLEDGE. 

Home  continued  pretty  much  as  usual.  Of  my  aunt  and 
Josephine,  we  of  the  study  and  the  nursery  saw  compara 
tively  little.  As  the  season  advanced,  and  the  gaiety 
increased,  there  was  not  much  time,  of  course,  at  my  aunt's 
sommand  for  any  but  the  most  imperative  home  duties ; 
this  being  Josephine's  first  winter  in  New  York,  it  was  a 
thing  of  the  highest  moment  to  bring  her  out  properly,  and 
no  sacrifice  was  considered  too  great.  Not  that  she 
neglected  her  household,  or  regular  duties ;  at  whatever 
hour  she  may  have  returned  home  the  night  before,  my 
Aunt  Edith  never  failed  to  appear  at  breakfast  punctually  j 
never  failed  to  hear  Esther  repeat  her  Collect,  and  glance 
over  Grace's  theme ;  never  failed  to  overlook  the  grocer's, 
baker's,  and  butcher's  accounts;  to  visit  in  person  daily, 
kitchen,  laundry,  butler's  pantry,  nursery,  and  study ;  to 
keep,  in  short,  that  eye  over  her  entire  establishment  that 
it  required  to  preserve  its  matchless  order  and  regularity. 
No  wonder  that  my  aunt  looked  haggard  and  worn  ;  no 
wonder  that  unwelcome  wrinkles  were  writing  themselves  on 
her  brow,  and  that  her  rounded  figure  was  fast  losing  its 
roundness.  To  serve  one  master  is  as  much  as  one  human 
being  is  capable  of.  In  the  miserable  attempt  to  serve  two 
how  many  wrecks  of  soul  and  body  are  daily  wrought. 

I  said  we  saw  very  little  of  my  aunt ;  it  seemed  very  little, 
for  her  daily  visits  to  us,  though  regular,  were  of  necessity 
hurried,  and  at  meals  she  was  generally  either  preoccupied 
and  thoughtful,  or  busy  with  Phil  in  arrangements  and 
plans  for  the  pressing  demands  of  society.  Josephine,  now- 
a-days,  had  her  breakfast  sent  to  her  room,  and  was  not. 
ordinarily  visible  before  twelve  o'clock.  Then  came  visit 
ing  hours  ;  and  at  dinner,  though,  when  they  did  not  dine 
out,  we  enjoyed  the  society  of  my  aunt,  and  Josephine,  and 
Phil,  still  it  seemed  to  me,  they  were  all  rather  listless  and 
stupid  ;  but  perhaps  they  were  only  reserving  their  energies 
for  the  evening.  After  study  hours,  sometimes,  and  just 
before  my  bed-time,  I  would  go  down  to  Josephine's  room 

11 


24:2  KUTLEDQE, 

by  particular  request,  and  assist  her  at  her  toilette  ;  her 
new  maid,  Frances,  being,  she  declared,  the  clumsiest, 
stupidest  thing  that  ever  breathed,  and  having  a  most 
unbearable  trick  of  bursting  into  tears  whenever  she  was 
scolded,  which,  I  suppose,  deprived  Josephine  of  all  plea 
sure  in  her  attendance.  My  services  suited  her  better, 
and  I  often  had  the  honor  of  superseding  Frances.  Not 
that  I  minded  it  at  all;  it  was  the  only  glimpse  I  had  into 
the  gay  wroiid  that  I  was  as  yet  so  ignorant  of.  I  liked  to 
array  Josephine  in  her  elegant  Parisian  dresses,  to  arrange 
the  drooping  flowers  in  her  glossy  black  hair,  and  to  clasp 
the  rich  bracelets  on  her  arms.  Grace,  on  these  occasions, 
was  strictly  forbidden  the  room ;  late  hours,  dissipation  and 
fatigue  had  not  materially  improved  Josephine's  temper  ; 
and  her  pert  young  sister's  allusions  to  bones,  necks  a  la 
gridiron,  etc.,  tried  her  beyond  endurance ;  and  mnmma 
interposing,  Grace,  for  once,  was  kept  at  bay.  I  will  not 
deny  a  vague  feeling  of  regret  and  longing,  as  I  watched 
my  cousin's  floating  drapery  downstairs,  and  thought  of 
the  gay  scene  she  was  .starting  for ;  and  as  Phil  wrapped 
her  light  cloak  around  her,  and  whispered  his  honest  praises 
in  her  ear,  as  she  followed  her  mother  to  the  door,  and  I 
turned  back  to  my  lonely  little  room,  it  did  seem  to  me 
that  there  was  great  need  of  faith  to  believe  that  her  lot 
and  mine  were  ordered  by  the  same  unerring  and  impartial 
Wisdom. 

Our  lessons  went  on  pretty  much  as  at  first.  With  Mr. 
Olman,  I  was  rather  a  check  upon  Grace,  and  the  poor  man 
began  to  regard  me  with  something  like  gratitude.  He  was 
a  good  teacher,  and  gave  me  plenty  of  work,  for  which  I, 
in  my  turn,  was  grateful.  Our  French  lessons,  it  appeared 
to  me,  were  rather  a  hollow  mockery,  Mdlle.  Berteau,  our 
preceptress,  being  a  chatty  little  woman,  who  spent  one-half 
her  time  in  gossiping  with  Grace  about  Paris  and  pretty 
things,  and  the  other  half  in  helping  her  write  the  exercises 
she  had  been  too  lazy  to  prepare  the  night  before,  I  alse 


KUTLEDGE.  243 

found  later,  that  mademoiselle  had  been  in  the  habit  of  sup 
plying  her  young  pupil  surreptitiously  with  some  rather 
questionable  French  literature.  Upon  a  threat  of  disclosing 
this  circumstance  to  mamma,  Grace  made  me  a  solemn  pro 
mise  to  renounce  it ;  but  I  must  confess  I  never  felt  any 
great  security  about  its  fulfillment. 

Our  German  proved  rather  more  satisfactory.  Mr. 
Waschlager,  a  strapping,  burly,  bearded  fellow,  with  a  loud 
voice  and  considerable  energy  of  manner,  inspired  Miss 
Grace  with  much  greater  respect  than  delicate  Mr.  Olman, 
with  his  nervousness  and  tremor.  His  imperfect  knowledge 
of  our  mother-tongue,  also,  rendered  any  sly  innuendoes 
quite  powerless  to  annoy  him,  and  Grace's  very  strikingly 
imperfect  knowledge  of  his  maternal  mode  of  speech,  put 
it  quite  out  of  her  ability  to  insult  him,  if  she  had  dared. 
So  that,  with  the  exception  of  having  ordinarily  to  write 
her  exercises  for  her,  and  give  her  the  benefit  of  my  re 
searches  in  the  dictionary  at  the  last  moment,  I  enjoyed  my 
German  lesson  very  much,  and  made  quite  rapid  advances 
in  that  language. 

A  week  or  two  before  my  arrival,  Esther's  daily  gov 
erness  (from  all  accounts  a  miserably  weak  and  injudicious* 
person)  had  been  dismissed,  having  been  found  entirely 
incompetent  to  manage  her  young  charge  ;  and,  till  another 
should  be  procured,  I  had  asked  my  aunt  if  I  should  not 
teach  her  for  an  hour  or  two  every  day.  The  offer  had 
been  very  gladly  accepted,  and,  somehow,  after  a  week  or 
two,  all  question  of  obtaining  a  new  governess  had  died 
out,  and  Essie  and  her  lessons  had  quietly  devolved  on  me. 
I  did  not  mind  it  very  much  ;  the  child  was  good  enough, 
and,  with  a  little  coaxing,  got  on  tolerably  well ;  but  it  was 
rather  hard  always  to  be  tied  down  to  that  duty  for  the 
hours  that  I  invariably  felt  most  like  reading  or  sewing, 
both  of  which  occupations  I  found  entirely  incompatible 
with  the  due  direction  of  Miss  Esther's  early  mathematical 
efforts,  and  the  proper  supervision  of  her  attempts  at  pen 


BUTLBDGE. 

manship.  I  had  the  benefit  of  her  society  at  other  hours 
also ;  she  kept  pretty  closely  at  my  side  during  my  leisure 
moments,  favored  by  my  vicinity  to  the  nursery,  and  was 
my  invariable  companion  in  my  walks :  Grace  never  walked, 
except  when  ordered  out  under  pain  of  her  mother's  dis 
pleasure,  and  Felicie  was,  of  course,  only  too  glad  to  shift 
the  duty  of  exercising  Miss  Esther  upon  me.  And  as  my 
aunt  had  a  prejudice  against  full  carriages,  she  and  Jose 
phine  were  generally  considered  a  sufficient  burden  for  the 
horses  on  Sunday,  and  Grace  being  commonly  threatened 
with  headache  on  that  day,  Esther  and  I  were  left  to  our 
selves  in  the  matter  of  church  ;  and  finding  one  not  far 
distant,  that  had  some  free  seats  within  its  ample  limits,  we 
profited  by  the  discovery,  and  pretty  constantly  filled  two 
of  them ;  Esther  holding  fast  to  my  dress,  never  for  a 
moment  letting  go  of  it  through  service  or  sermon ;  at 
times  it  seemed  to  me,  as  I  caught  her  strange  troubled 
eyes  fixed  on  the  rich  colors  of  the  chancel  window,  or  the 
misty  blue  of  the  vaulted  roof,  that  "  her  heart  was  envious 
of  her  eye,"  and  she  clung  to  me,  uncertain  and  hesitating, 
as  her  one  tie  to  earth.  I  never  could  quite  make  out  the 
child  ;  with  all  her  pettishness,  and  very  willful  and  trying 
naughtiness,  there  were  moods  and  fancies  about  her  that 
thoroughly  puzzled  me.  The  only  way,  I  found,  was  to  be 
as  patient  as  possible  with  the  one,  and  humor  the  other  as 
far  as  was  practicable. 

I  introduced  her  to  her  Prayer-book  frequently  at  church, 
but  to  little  effect ;  she  would  obey  for  the  moment,  then 
the  book  would  drop  unheeded  from  her  hand,  and  she 
would  presently  be  gazing  dreamily  before  her  again. 
Never  letting  go  my  dress,  she  would  slip  down  on  her 
knees  when  the  others  did,  but  when  I  glanced  at  her,  it 
was  always  to  find  that  strange  wistful  look  on  her  upturned 
lace,  that  always  gave  me  a  vague  feeling  of  uneasiness. 
She  was  by  no  means  a  precocious  child — rather  a  backward 
and  undeveloped  one ;  but  sometimes  she  startled  me  with 


K  D  T  L  E  D  G  E  .  245 

questions  that  were  as  much  beyond  what  I  had  expected 
of  her,  as  they  were  beyond  me  to  answer  lucidly. 

Besides  our  dislike  of  Felicie  and  our  liking  for  Trinity 
Chapel,  there  was  another  bond  of  sympathy  between  my 
little  cousin  and  me,  and  that  was,  our  cordial  antipathy  to 
"  company  "  days  and  times.  Not  that  we  ever  had  much 
personal  interest  in  them,  but  the  moral  atmosphere  of  the 
house,  for  the  whole  of  the  day  on  which  one  of  my  aunt's 
elaborate  dinner-parties  occurred,  was  extremely  grating  to 
our  nerves.  My  aunt  was  always  a  little  more  decided  and 
hurried,  Josephine  a  shade  more  imperious,  Grace  perter, 
Felicie  more  hateful,  John  more  given  to  short  answers — in 
fact,  no  member  of  the  household  but  felt  oppressed  by  the 
coming  event.  Grace  and  I  dined  with  Esther  at  "  the 
little  dinner  "  at  one,  on  such  occasions,  and  all  we  saw  of 
the  contents  of  the  carriages  that,  about  six,  began  to  roll 
up  to  the  door,  was  seen  from  over  the  balusters  of  the 
third-story  staircase.  My  aunt,  it  is  true,  had  at  first  pro 
posed  to  me  to  put  on  my  new  silk,  and  come  down  stairs, 
but  it  seemed  to  me  that  the  invitation  was  rather  luke 
warm,  and  she  agreed  with  me  very  readily  in  thinking  that 
for  this  winter,  it  was  better  for  me  to  stay  altogether  out 
of  society. 

"You  will  be  all  the  fresher  when  you  do  appear,  my  love," 
said  my  aunt  Edith. 

So,  par  consequent,  I  saw  but  little  of  the  visitors  at  the 
house,  though,  through  Grace,  and  the  general  table  talk 
and  accidental  meetings  in  the  parlor,  I  kept  the  run  of  the 
most  intimate  and  familiar  ones.  Among  the  gentlemen, 
there  was  a  Captain  McGuffy,  an  army  friend  of  Phil's,  who 
was  a  good  deal  at  the  house,  principally  noticeable  for  his 
appetite  and  his  moustache.  Also,  a  stale  old  beau  named 
Reese,  who  was  a  kind  of  heir-loom  in  fashionable  families, 
handed  down  from  mother  to  daughter  along  with  other 
antique  and  valued  relics,  to  grace  their  entree  into  society 
He  had.  been  an  admirer  of  my  aunt  Edith's  in  her  opening 


846>  R  U  T  L  E  D  G  E  . 

bloom,  but  was  now  made  over  to  Josephine,  by  that 
unselfish  parent,  to  swell  the  list  of  the  younger  one's 
retainers.  Besides  these,  there  was  a  Mr.  Wynkar,  very 
young  and  very  insignificant,  endured  principally,  I  fancied, 
for  his  utility;  and  a  young  Frenchman,  who  was  quite  new 
on  the  tapis,  and  much  the  rage. 

But  it  was  a  fact  patent  even  to  my  simplicity,  that  Mr. 
Kutledge  was,  par  excellence,  the  most  courted  and  desired 
guest  in  Gramercy  Square.  For  him,  Josephine's  smiles 
came  thickest  and  sweetest,  and  the  daring  freedom  of 
speech  and  wit  that  characterized  her  bearing  with  Phil  and 
his  military  confrere,  were,  in  his  presence,  toned  down  into 
a  spirited,  but  most  taking  coquetry,  and  the  anxious  frown 
on  Aunt  Edith's  brow  was  smoothed  away  whenever  John 
announced,  "  Mr.  Rutledge,  madam."  That  those  announce 
ments  were  very  frequent,  could  never  cease  to  be  a  matter 
of  interest  to  me,  though  there  seemed  little  excuse  for  my 
feeling  any  deeper  personal  concern  in  them  than  John  him 
self.  Being  always  expected  to  retire  directly  from  dinner 
to  the  study,  we  of  course  lost  all  evening  visitors,  and  in 
the  daytime,  it  was  even  less  likely  that  we  should  encounter 
any  one  from  the  parlor.  More  than  once,  on  dinner-party 
nights,  I  had  stood  so  near  him,  that  I  could  have  whispered 
and  he  would  have  heard ;  shrinking  down  in  the  shadow 
of  the  landing-place,  I  had  watched  him  leave  the  dressing- 
room  slowly,  always  walking  through  the  upper  hall  very 
leisurely,  and  looking  attentively  around.  But  the  darkness 
of  that  upper  landing-place  would  baffle  even  his  keen  eye  ; 
my  very  heart  would  stand  still — the  breath  would  not  pass 
my  parted  lips,  and  there  would  be  no  danger  that  his  quick 
ear  should  discover  that  which  I  would  have  died  rather 
than  he  should  have  known.  I  would  watch  him  down  the 
stairs,  see  him  pause  a  moment  before  the  parlor-door,  then, 
as  he  opened  it,  there  would  come,  for  an  instant,  the  gay 
clamor  of  many  voices,  the  rustling  of  silks,  the  ringing  of 
laughter,  then  in  an  instant  shut  again,  and  I  would  creep 


EUTLEDGE.  247 

back  to  my  dark  and  cheerless  little  room  with  a  heart  that, 
had  I  been  older  and  less  humble,  would  have  been  bitter 
and  resentful,  but  as  it  was,  was  only  aching  and  sad.  I 
often  wondered  whether,  if  that  bracelet  had  not  been 
fastened  irrevocably  on  my  arm,  I  should  have  taken  it  off? 
Whether,  if  I  could,  I  would  have  put  far  out  of  sight,  all 
souvenirs  of  that  happy  visit,  that  nobody  seemed  to  remem 
ber  now  but  me.  Whether  it  would  have  been  any  easier 
to  forget,  if  I  could  have  broken  my  promise  as  he  most 
assuredly  had  broken  his.  Of  course  he  had  broken  it ;  the 
only  folly  had  been  in  my  ever  expecting  him  to  remember 
such  a  jest  an  hour  after  it  was  spoken.  A  one-sided  friend 
ship,  indeed  it  was,  upon  reflection,  a  very  absurd  friend 
ship,  between  an  ignorant  school-girl  and  an  elegant,  high 
bred,  cultivated  gentleman,  and  one  who,  as  Grace  said  one 
day  at  the  table,  if  he  wasn't  the  coolest  and  most  indifferent 
of  men,  would  be  a  perfect  lion  in  society. 

"  He's  toojeuced  stiff  and  haughty  to  be  tolerated,"  said 
Mr.  Wynkar,  who,  with  Capt.  McGuffy  and  Phil,  was 
dining  with  us  in  such  petit  comite,  that  it  was  not  con 
sidered  necessary  to  exclude  the  juniors  from  the  board. 

"You  and  he  arn't  intimate,  then,"  said  Grace,  with 
a  sly  laugh,  which  Josephine  rather  encouraged  in  a  quiet 
way. 

"  I  never  could  see,"  said  Capt.  McGuffy,  from  under 
his  moustache,  "what  everybody  finds  in  that  man  so 
remarkable.  He  has  a  tolerably  correct  idea  of  a  horse,  and 
rides  pretty  well ;  but  beyond  that,  I  think  he's  rather  a 
stick." 

Grace  elevated  her  eyebrows,  and  Mr.  Wynkar  went  or 
to  say,  "  that  for  his  part,  he  thought  there  was  nothing 
about  him  but  his  money  and  his  family.  Rutledge  was  a 
good  name,  and  he  was,  without  doubt,  the  best  match  in 
society." 

"  Match !"  exclaimed  the  captain.  "  He's  no  more  idea 
of  marrying  than  a  monk.  I  pity  the  girl  that  sets  he* 


248  KUTLEDGE. 

affections  oil  his  establishment.  Mdfoit  She'd  about  as 
well  make  beaux  yeux  at  the  bronze  general  in  Union 
Square.  Her  chance  of  making  an  impression  would  be 
about  as  good." 

"  McGufiy's  right,"  said  Phil,  warmly.  "  If  everybody 
knew  as  much  as  he  does,  they'd  let  Mr.  Rutledge  alone, 
and  turn  their  attention  to  subjects  that  would  pay 
better." 

"Army  men  upon  a  thousand  a  year,  for  instance,"  said 
Josephine,  under  her  breath,  and  with  an  irritated  contrac 
tion  of  the  brow. 

"  Yes,"'  said  Mrs.  Churchill,  quite  blandly,  "  it  is  peculiar 
that  any  one  can  see  in  him  a  marrying  man.  At  his  age,  it 
is  very  seldom  that  one  of  his  disposition  feels  any  inclina 
tion  to  form  new  ties  and  interests,  and  enter  upon  so  dif 
ferent  a  life.  Nothing  could  surprise  me  more  than  to  hear 
that  Mr.  Rutledge  was  going  to  be  married." 

Grace  squeezed  up  her  moufli  in  a  significant  way,  and 
gave  a  funny  look  at  her  mother  as  she  said  this,  evidently 
exercising  great  self-denial  in  not  answering. 

Mr.  Ellerton  Wynkar  took  upon  himself  that  office,  and 
agreed  entirely  with  Mrs.  Churchill,  adding,  however,  that 
there  were  some  stories  about  the  early  life  of  the  gentle 
man,  that  he  didn't  know  whether  to  believe  or  not. 
Was  it  true  that  he  had  been  so  dissipated  when  he  was  a 
young  man  ? 

Mrs.  Churchill  smiled,  and  shrugged  her  shoulders.  She 
knew  nothing  about  that ;  he  had  spent  most  of  his  early 
life  abroad,  she  said,  and  sowed  his  wild  oats,  if  he  had  any 
to  sow,  on  another  continent,  and  it  was  but  fair  for  us  to 
be  content  to  take  him  as  he  Avished  to  appear  at  home,  jvnd 
ignore  the  other  continent. 

"  You  may  bet  your  head,"  exclaimed  the  captain,  emphati 
cally,  "  that  no  man  with  a  fortune  like  his,  ever  settled 
down  into  morality  and  farming,  withotit  having  a  good 
time  or  so,  to  begin  with.  Trust  him  for  that !  The  ladiei 


RUTLEDGE.  249 

wouldn't  like  him  so  well,  if  there  wasn't  a  touch  of  the  sin 
ner  about  him." 

Aunt  Edith  shook  her  head,  and  said  that  was  a  shocking 
doctrine ;  while  Josephine  declared,  with  a  laugh,  they 
had  to  like  sinners— there  was  nothing  else  in  society; 
and  Mr.  Wyukar  taking  it  as  a  personal  tribute,  pulled  his 
pale  moustache  and  smiled,  while  the  captain  concentrated 
his  herculean  powers  on  an  appropriate  rejoinder,  and 
Grace  drew  the  attention  of  the  table  to  me,  by  exclaim 
ing: 

"  Why,  what's  the  matter  ?  Yoa  look  as  if  you  had 
been  shot." 

"  Rather,  as  if  she'd  like  to  shoot  us,"  said  Josephine, 
laughing.  "  What  have  we  done  to  excite  such  horror  ?  I 
hope  you're  not  making  yourself  unhappy  on  Mr.  Rut- 
ledge's  account.  I  think  he's  able  to  take  care  of  himself." 

"  If  I  had  known,"  said  Mr.  Wynkar,  with  an  apologetic 
wave  of  the  hand,  and  a  smile  that  was  meant  to  be  ironi 
cal,  "  if  I  had  known  that  Mr.  Rutledge  had  so  enthusiastic 
a  friend  present,  I  should  have  been  more  careful;  and 
I  most  humbly  beg,  that  what  I  have  said  may  be  for 
given." 

The  captain  laughed  a  great  laugh,  and  said  he  might 
have  known  that  wherever  there  was  a  pretty  face,  there  was 
a  friend  to  Mr.  Rutledge ;  and  Grace  asked,  artlessly,  what 
made  me  blush  so ;  while  only  good-natured  Phil  came  to 
the  rescue,  and  in  his  blunt,  honest  way,  exclaimed : 

"  It's  my  opinion  she's  much  in  the  right  of  it.  I  shouldn't 
think  much  of  her,  if  she  wasn't  angry  at  hearing  anybody 
used  up  so,  all  on  suspicion,  too.  If  there's  anything  against 
him,  why,  hang  it,  come  out  and  say  so ;  but  this  making  a 
man  out  a  rascal,  because  people  like  him  and  because  he's 
got  a  fortune,  upon  my  soul,  I  think  it's  a  scurvy  sort  of 
trick,  that  I  do." 

"Don't  hit  him.  any  more — he's  got  friends,"  whined 
Grace. 

11* 


250  RUTLEDGE. 

"  Phil  quite  mistakes  \is  if  he  thinks  we  are  not  all  Mr 
Rutledge's  friends,"  said  Mrs.  Churchill.  "  No  one  dreamed 
of  saying  anything  that  could  possibly  be  considered  uncom 
plimentary." 

"  I  don't  know,  Aunt  Edith,"  said  Phil,  rather  warmly ; 
"  but  I  hope  you  don't  pay  me  that  sort  of  compliment 
when  I'm  not  by." 

"  Indeed  we  don't,"  exclaimed  Josephine,  laughing. 
"  When  you're  absent,  Phil  (which  isn't  often,  you  know), 
•we  all  say  you're  the  *best  fellow  in  the  world,  and  count  the 
hours  till  you  come  back." 

"  Then  I  think  the  best  thing  I  can  do  is  to  stay  away," 
he  answered,  with  a  sort  of  sigh. 

"  Ah,  Phil,  I  know  you  wouldn't  have  the  heart !"  said 
Josephine,  in  a  low  tone,  with  a  bright  flash  of  her  coquet 
tish  eye ;  which  had  the  efiect  of  subduing  her  cousin  for 
the  rest  of  the  evening,  and  keeping  him  obedient  to  her 
slightest  whim. 

Though  the  rest  of  the  family  seemed  to  forget  very  soon 
the  little  episode  that  had  been  so  excruciating  to  me,  and 
so  amusing  to  them,  I  do  not  think  it  was  lost  upon  my 
aunt.  I  always  found"  her  looking  at  me  very  narrowly 
whenever  Mr.  Rutledge  was  mentioned,  and  she  on  more 
than  one  occasion,  in  my  presence,  took  pains  to  speak  of 
him  in  a  way  that  seemed  to  put  a  greater  distance  than 
ever  between  us,  of  his  age,  his  eccentricities,  his  reserve. 
My  aunt  might  have  saved  herself  the  trouble.  I  "  knew 
my  place  "  by  this  time,  and  shrunk  as  naturally  from  meet 
ing  him  now,  as  I  had  before  been  eager  and  forward.  On 
the  one  or  two  occasions  when  I  could  not  avoid  encounter 
ing  him,  it  had  been  in  her  presence,  and  I  had  been  shy  and 
cold  to  a  degree  that  must  have  been  unaccountable  to  him, 
if  he  had  given  the  matter  a  thought,  which  I  very  much 
doubted.  I  had  excused  myself  as  hurriedly  as  possible,  and 
slipped  back  to  the  study,  glad  to  be  by  myself  again,  yet 
bitterly  sorry,  as  soon  as  it  was  too  late,  that  I  had  not 


BUTLEDQE.  251 

ataid  where  on.y  I  wished  to  be — where  only  I  found  any 
pleasure,  if  such  a  doubtful  emotion  indeed  could  be  called 
pleasure.  It  was  the  nearest  approach  to  it,  however,  that 
ray  life  presented ;  it  was  what  I  looked  forward  to,  spite 
of  my  good  resolves  from  day  to  day;  yet,  when  the 
wished-for  pleasure  came,  with  strange  shyness  and  per 
verseness,  I  thrust  it  away  out  of  my  own  reach,  then  cried 
passionately  at  the  disappointment,  and  began  to  hope 
again.  The  most  inexplicable  and  contradictory  thing  in 
all  this  world  of  contradictions,  is  a  woman's  heart,  before 
experience  has  tutored  it.  The  woman  herself  does  not 
understand  it.  What  wonder  if  its  strange  willfulness  and 
sudden  impulses  hopelessly  bewilder  and  mislead  the  one  of 
all  others  whom  she  most  desires  to  please,  and  for  whom 
alone,  if  the  truth  were  known,  the  foolish  heart  throb*  and 
flatters  and  pine*. 


CHAPTER   XX. 

"  Doth  net  the  world  show  men  a  very  Judas'  part,  and  oetray  them  unto 
Batan,  saying,  whom  I  kiss  with  a  feigned  sign  of  love,  take  them — torture 
them?"  BUTTON. 

"MAMMA  says,"  drawled  out  Grace,  sauntering  into  the 
study  one  snowy  morning,  as  I  sat  busy  at  my  German, 
"  mamma  says,  that  as  you  write  a  good  hand,  you  may 
direct  these  cards  for  her,  and  she  will  excuse  you  to  Mr. 
Waschlager,  if  you  don't  have  time  to  finish  your  German 
before  he  comes." 

I  could  not  help  a  slight  exclamation  of  impatience  as  I 
relinquished  my  books,  and  took  the  long  list  of  names 
and  the  basketful  of  blank  envelopes  that  Grace  handed 
me. 

"  How  glad  I  am  that  I  don't  write  a  nice  hand !"  she 
ejaculated,  as  she  threw  herself  lazily  into  a  chair  by  the 
window,  and  leaning  on  her  elbow,  gazed  out  into  the 
streets,  now  "  dumb  with  snow,"  but  where,  before  an  hour 
was  over,  the  jingling  of  an  occasional  sleigh-bell  would  be 
but  a  prelude  to  the  merry  music  with  which,  till  the  snow 
vanished,  they  were  to  resound. 

"  I  should  think  you'd  be  glad  to  get  rid  of  your  Ger 
man  ;  though,  I  suppose,  it's  only  '  out  of  the  frying-pan,* 
for  you  have  a  good  morning's  work  before  you  in  those 
precious  cards." 

I  didn't  trust  myself  to  answer,  and,  after  a  pause,  Grace 
went  on  : 

"  I  should  think  mamma  might  have  set  Josephine  to 
write  those  things  herself,  don't  you  ?  The  party's  all  on 
her  account,  and  she  and  Phil  are  doing  nothing  down  in 
the  library  this  morning.'* 


BDTLEDGE.  253 

Grace  looked  a  little  longer  at  the  lessening  snow-flakes, 
then  continued,  pleasantly : 

"  What  shall  you  wear  ?  For  we've  got  to  come  down, 
mamma  said  so ;  and  she  said,  too,  that  she  didn't  believe 
you  had  anything  fit  to  wear." 

"  I  haven't  given  a  thought  to  the  subject.  Pray,  don't 
talk,  Grace,  you  confuse  me." 

"  But  you'll  have  to  give  it  a  thought,"  she  exclaimed. 
"  Josephine's  going  to  wear  her  new  pink  silk,  and  I  should 
think  you'd  want  to  look  nicely  the  first  time  you  go  into 
company.  Ella  Wynkar  was  saying  the  other  day,  she 
thought  it  was  the  queerest  thing  you  never  went  any 
where." 

"  Grace,  really  if  you  can't  be  quiet,  I  must  go  into  my 
own  room.  I  won't  waste  any  more  time  misdirecting 
these  cards,  which  I  cannot  help  doing  if  you  talk  all  the 
while." 

She  subsided  for  a  few  minutes,  but  pretty  soon  began 
again. 

"  It's  going  to  be  splendid  sleighing ;  it's  stopped  snow 
ing  altogether,  and  I  believe  the  sun  is  actually  coming 
out ;  don't  you  wish  there  was  any  chance  of  your  having  a 
sleigh-ride  ?" 

"  No,"  I  exclaimed,  impatiently ;  "  I  don't  wish  for 
anything  but  quiet,  and  if  you  must  be  lazy  yourself,  I 
don't  see  what  need  there  is  of  making  other  people  so." 

"  You're  shockingly  out  of  temper  this  morning,"  said 
Grace,  shrugging  her  shoulders  and .  getting  up  to  go.  "  I 
think  I  shall  have  to  '  leave  you  to  your  own  reflections, 
as  mamma  always  says  after  giving  any  of  us  a  lecture.  I 
must  go  and  see  what  mischief  Esther  is-  in.  She  has  been 
too  quiet  this  morning." 

I  saw,  by  the  sly  gleam  in  Grace's  eye,  that  Esther's 
peace  was  over ;  I  knew  the  futility  of  argument,  and 
attempted  none ;  ten  minutes  after,  a  distressed  nttle  voicw 
outaide,  crying,  "  Won't  you  arpeak  to  Grace  ?  She's  %oi 


254  RUT  LEDGE. 

the  brushes  out  of  my  paint-box,  and  she  won't  give  em  to 
me,"  showed  me  how  Grace  was  killing  time.  I  opened 
the  door  for  the  little  malheureuse,  told  her  not  to  mind 
about  the  paint-brushes,  but  if  she'd  be  a  quiet  child,  she 
might  sit  down  here  and  look  at  the  big  "  Pilgrim's  Pro 
gress  ;"  so  I  installed  her  in  Grace's  vacated  seat,  by  the 
window,  and  she  dried  her  tears,  and  looked  the  book 
through  twice  ;  then,  kneeling  in  the  chair,  gazed  out  into 
the  street,  so  quietly  that  I  almost  forgot  her  existence. 
My  task  was  a  distasteful  one,  insomuch  as  it  interfered 
with  pleasanter  occupations,  and  I  had  great  difficulty  in 
keeping  my  patience  to  its  completion  ;  but  at  last  it  was 
ended,  and  the  last  name  on  the  list  copied  on  the  envelope 
of  the  last  card,  and  replaced  in  the  basket,  and,  fagged 
and  dispirited,  I  pushed  them  away,  and,  crossing'  over  to 
the  window,  sat  down  by  it,  and  took  the  child  on  my 
knee. 

No  wonder  the  scene  had  fascinated  her  so  long ;  it  cer 
tainly  was  bright  and  picturesque.  Snow  is  as  magical  a 
beautifier  as  moonlight ;  it  freshens  up,  gilds  over,  and 
brightens  the  worn-out  surface  of  every-day,  and  makes  a 
pretty  picture  of  a  common  reality.  I  had  never  suspected 
Gramercy  Park  of  beauty  before,  but  under  the  light 
mantle  of  this  snow  it  became  lovely.  The  trees  bent  with 
its  light  weight ;  it  capped  and  decorated  the  iron  railings, 
and  crested  the  roofs  and  window-casings  of  the  houses 
on  the  square.  It  lay  white  and  unsullied  on  the  ground, 
and  in  the  courtyards ;  only  a  few  children  had  as  yet  burst 
nursery  bounds,  and,  wild  with  delight,  rushed  into  the  new 
element ;  and  but  a  few  shovels  and  brooms  were  at  work. 
The  sky  had  come  out  gorgeously  blue,  the  sunshine  was 
glittering  gaily  on  the  white  snow;  it  was  altogether  a 
brilliant  picture,  done  in  high  colors,  but  possessing  the 
advantage  that  nature's  pictures  always  enjoy,  of  not  having 
an  inharmonious  or  jarring  tinge.  Even  the  sleigh-loads  of 
gaily-dressed  people  that  began  to  dash  past,  seemed  to 


IcUTI    EDGE,  255 

have  got  themselves  up  to  match  and  not  mar  the  scene. 
The  bright  colors  of  the  sleigh-robes,  the  flashing  of  the 
silver-bells,  the  red  cheeks  of  the  girls,  the  gay  clothes  of 
the  pretty  children,  were  quite  harmonious  and  quite  effec 
tive.  Esther  looked  at  it  for  a  long  while  in  perfect  con 
tent,  as  she  would  have  looked  at  a  nice  picture-book ;  by 
and  by,  it  began  to  assume  a  more  personal  character  in 
her  eyes. 

"I  should  like  to  go  out  and  ride,  myself,"  she  said,  at 
length. 

"  So  should  I,  but  there  doesn't  seem  much  chance  of 
it,"  I  answered ;  "  therefore,  it's  best  not  to  think  about 
it." 

"Other  children  go,"  she  said.  "I  don't  see  why  I 
can't.  I  think  mamma  might  have  a  sleigh." 

"  That's  mamma's  business,  and  not  yours,"  I  said  ; 
"  and  there  are  more  little  children  who  don't  ride  than 
there  are  little  children  who  do.  There  is  one,  for  instance, 
coining  out  of  the  area,  who  has  been  poking  about,  in  all 
the  ash-barrels  in  the  square,  for  a  few  cinders  to  keep  him 
warm  at  home.  Poor  little  fellow !  Don't  you  feel  sorry 
for  him,  Essie  ?  His  ears  and  nose  are  so  red,  and  his  lipa 
are  almost  purple.  I  don't  believe  he's  had  a  sleigh-ride, 
do  you  ?" 

Essie  looked  down  thoughtfully  at  him,  but  didn't 
answer ;  no  more  repinings  occurring,  however,  I  inferred 
that  she  had  profited  by  the  train  of  thought  the  shivering 
little  object  below  us  had  suggested.  I  still  sat  by  the 
window,  with  Essie  in  my  lap  and  a  book  in  my  hand, 
when,  with  a  cry  of  pleasure,  she  started  up,  exclaiming, 
as  a  sleigh  drew  up  at  the  door  : 

"  There's  Mr.  Rutledge,  and  I  know  he's  come  for  us  to 
ride !  Hurrah !" 

I  bent  forward,  just  in  time  to  meet  his  eye,  as  he  sprang 
from  the  sleigh,  and  to  return  awkwardly  his  salutation. 
Esther  waited  for  no  permission,  but  bounded  from  my  lap, 


256  RUTLEDGE 

flew  across  the  room,  and  downstairs  before  I  could  recall 
her,  and  opened  the  door  for  him  before  he  had  rung  the 
bell.  There  was  a  very  enthusiastic  meeting  between  then^ 
and  an  excited  "  That's  good !"  from  the  child,  and  in  a 
moment  she  was  back  again  at  my  side,  breathless  and 
eager,  exclaiming : 

"  Mr.  Rutledge  has  come  for  us  all,  to  drive  out  to  High 
Bridge.  Put  on  you?  things  quick — quick  as  ever  you  can." 

"  Who's  going  ?  Who  did  he  ask  ?"  I  said,  breathless 
as  the  child  herself. 

"  You,  me,  mamma,  Josephine,  all  of  us  !     Be  quick." 

"  But  listen,  Essie,"  I  exclaimed,  following  her  to  the 
hall,  as  she  bounded  off  up  to  the  nursery.  "Stop  a 
minute.  What  did  he  say  ? — did  he  say  me  ?" 

"  Yes,  yes,  he  said,  '  run  up  and  .  ask  your  cousin  if  she'll 
take  that  ride  this  morning  that  we  talked  about  at  Rut- 
ledge,  and  I'll  go  into  the  parlor  and  ask  your  mamma  and 
Miss  Josephine ;'  and  now  let  me  run  for  Felicie  to  get  me 
ready ;"  and  the  child  was  off  again,  but  came  back  obe 
diently  when  I  called  her.  I  held  her  tight  by  the  hand, 
as,  with  a  beating  heart,  I  leaned  over  the  balusters,  and 
heard  the  merry  voices  in  the  hall  below.  I  could  not  dis 
tinguish  what  Mr.  Rutledge  said,  but  I  heard  Josephine's 
laughing  rejoinder : 

"  I  assure  you,  I  didn't  mean  to  hint,  last  night,  when  I 
said  I  longed  for  a  sleigh-ride  again ;  but  it  was  just  like 
you,  to  remember  it.  It's  a  charming  day.  How  we  shall 
enjoy  it !" 

I  led  Essie  to  the  stairs,  and  leaning  down,  said : 

"  Go  down  and  tell  Mr.  Rutledge,  that  he's  very  kind, 
but  I  beg  he  will  excuse  me  to-day." 

The  child  looked  bewildered,  and  exclaimed :  "  But, 
aren't  you  going  ?" 

"  No ;  go  down  and  say  just  what  I  have  told  you, 
remember;  and  then  come  back,  and  I'll  help  you  get 
ready." 


R    ,  T  L  E  D  G  E  .  257 

Esther  wonderingly  obeyed,  and  slid  down  the  stairs  like 
a  spirit.  I  scorned  to  listen  any  longer,  though  I  would 
have  given  anything  and  everything  I  possessed  to  have 
unravelled  the  tangled  maze  of  voices  in  the  hall,  and 
known  how  my  refusal  was  received.  Pride  to  the  rescue ! 
however,  and  I  was  bending  over  my  German,  when  my 
aunt  looked  in  a  moment  at  the  door,  to  inquire  if  I  didn't 
care  to  go. 

I  said,  "  No,  thank  you  ;  I  have  my  translation  to 
finish,  and,  if  you  are  willing,  I  will  stay  at  home." 

Just  then,  Josephine  and  Grace  came  up,  and  Essie  burst 
into  the  room,  exclaiming : 

"  Mamma,  mamma,  what  shall  I  wear  ?  What  frock  had 
I  better  put  on  ?" 

"  Why,  you're  not  going,"  cried  Josephine,  pettishly,, 
"  Surely,  mamma,  you  do  not  mean  to  let  that  child  go. 
There's  no  room  for  her  if  Phil  goes,  and  she'll  be  whim 
pering  with  the  cold  in  ten  minutes." 

"  Mr.  Rutledge  only  asked  her  for  politeness,"  said 
Grace.  "  He  never  thought  of  such  a  snip  really  going." 

"  She'll  spoil  everything,"  said  Josephine,  decidedly. 
"  I  don't  care  to  go  if  she  does." 

"  I  think,  on  the  whole,  my  dear  Essie,"  said  Mrs. 
Churchill,  "  that  it  is  best  for  you  not  to  go.  You  must 
amuse  yourself  at  home,  and  be  a  good  child ;  we  shall  not 
be  gone  very  long." 

The  little  girl's  lips  moved,  as  if  she  would  speak,  but  no 
words  came,  and,  as  the  others  left  the  room,  I  looked  at 
her  with  some  anxiety.  I  never  saw  a  face  so  changed. 
The  brief  radiance  that  had  lighted  it  had  passed  away,  and 
in  its  place  was  a  livid  look  of  passion  that  fairly  frightened 
me. 

"  Why,  Essie,  child,  don't  take  it  so  to  heart,"  I  said, 
soothingly,  attempting  to  touch  her  cold,  clenched  hand, 
but  with  a  fierce  gesture  she  released  herself  and  turned 
away.  I  tried  to  pacify  and  divert  her,  but  received  DO 


258  P  IT  T  L  E  D  G  E  . 


iii  anscrer,  till,  from  the  window,  we  saw  the  party 
enter  the  sleigh,  and  after  a  moment  of  adjusting  sleigh- 
robes  and  furs,  the  fine  horses  started  spiritedly  forward,  to 
the  music  of  their  own  merry  bells  ;  then,  with  a  violent 
scream,  the  child  threw  herself  upon  the  floor,  and  shook  from. 
head  to  foot  with  a  passion  that  many  men  and  women  pass 
through  life  without  experiencing.  Such  tempests  cannot 
fail  to  blight  the  souls  they  sweep  over;  they  bow  the 
cracking  forest,  and  strip  it  of  its  leaves  ;  the  tender  sap- 
ling,  alone  and  unprotected  in  its  flexile  youth,  can  hardly 
escape  undesolated.  Swayed  and  whipped  about  with  the 
fierce  blast,  all  that  is  tender  and  delicate  about  it  must  be 
blighted  ;  the  stem  that  should  have  been  fair  and  straight, 
must,  if  it  survive  the  trial,  be  twisted,  and  rough,  and 
gnarled  ;  it  may  strike  a  deeper  root  ;  it  will  never  cast  as 
fine  a  shade,  nor  be  as  fair  a  tree.  If,  unable  to  sustain  the 
storm,  the  frail  stem  snap,  and  the  life-blood  ooze  away,  is 
it  a  questionable  providence,  or  an  utter  mercy  ? 

"  Essie,  my  dear  little  girl,"  I  continued,  as  the  child  still 
lay  sobbing  on  the  floor,  long  after  the  first  burst  of  temper 
had  expended  itself,  "  Essie,  you  will  surely  make  yourself 
sick  ;  you  are  chilled  through  already,  and  the  room  is  get 
ting  cold  ;  come  upstairs  with  me." 

But  no,  the  headstrong  child  would  not  go  upstairs,  but 
would  lie  there,  and  only  there,  and  sob,  and  cry,  and 
refuse  all  comfort.  It  was  not  till  the  shaking  of  sleigh- 
bells  at  the  door  announced  the  return  of  the  part}',  that 
my  arguments  had  the  least  effect. 

"  Don't  let  them  see  you  lying  there,  Esther.  Come  up, 
and  let  me  wash  the  tears  off  your  face  and  smooth  your 
hair,"  I  said  ;  and  she  allowed  me  to  lift  her  up,  and  lead 
her  upstairs,  before  her  sisters  came  in.  Felicie  was  busy 
with  a  skirt  of  Josephine's,  so  I  shut  the  nursery  door  and 
kept  the  child  with  me.  But  this  time  there  was  no  sooth 
ing  her  ;  she  was  fretful  and  trying  beyond  anything  I 
had  ever  seen  ;  perhaps  if  I  had  not  been  so  miserable 


RUTLEDGE.  259 

myself  then,  I  could  not  have  been  as  patient  with  her,  as  I 
remember  I  was.  I  was  wretched  enough  to  have  lain 
down  and  sobbed  myself,  but  the  office  of  comforter  is 
incompatible  with  that  of  mourner,  and  so  is  an  office  twice 
blessed ;  for  tempting  as  is  the  luxury  of  tears,  the  reward 
of  self-control  is  always  greater  and  more  lasting. 

"  The  dinner-bell  will  soon  ring,  Essie,  and  you  will  not 
be  ready  to  come  down  to  dessert ;  come  and  let  me  brush 
your  hair." 

"  I  don't  want  to  go  down  ;  I  don't  want  any  dessert," 
she  whined. 

Her  hands  were  now  hot  and  feverish,  her  teeth  chatter 
ing  with  nervousness,  and  I  recognized  the  approach  of  one 
of  her  sick  headaches.  I  did  not  much  wonder  that  she  did 
not  want  to  go  down,  so  I  coaxed  her  to  let  me  undress  her, 
and  put  her  to  bed,  "  and  if  you'll  be  a  good  child,  you  may 
sleep  with  me  to-night." 

"  Very  well,"  she  said,  laconically,  with  a  weary  sigh ; 
and  before  the  dinner-bell  rang,  I  had  laid  her,  quieted,  in 
my  bed,  with,  however,  a  very  wide-awake  and  nervous 
stare  about  her  eyes,  but  no  tears  and  not  much  fretting. 

For  the  next  few  days,  the  absorbing  cares  of  the 
approaching  party  must  have  prevented  my  Aunt  Edith 
from  seeing  the  real  indisposition  of  Esther.  That  her 
increasing  irritability  was  the  result  of  illness,  I  could  not 
doubt,  as  I  had  ascertained  for  myself,  that  she  could  be  as 
quiet  as  other  children,  when  she  was  well.  Josephine 
declared,  I  spoiled  the  teasing  little  object.  Grace  said, 
with  a  laugh : 

"  You  can't  reproach  yourself  with  anything  of  the  kind, 
can  you,  Joseph  ?" 

And  Phil,  taking  "  the  teasing  little  object "  on  his  knee, 
said  : 

"  Aunt  Edith,  upon  my  word,  the  child  grows  lighter 
every  time  I  take  her  up.  Is  she  well  ?" 

"  I  mean  to  have  the  doctor  this  morning,"  she  answered, 


260  RUTLKDGfi. 

looking  up  from  her  writing.  "  I  am  rather  worried  about 
her;  she  is  a  little  feverish.  Esther,  don't  stay  by  the 
window ;  it  is  too  cold  for  you.  Go  up  to  the  nursery,  and 
tell  Felicie  to  put  a  little  sacque  on  you." 

So  Esther  was  remanded  to  the  nursery,  and  it  being  the 
day  before  the  party,  there  was  plenty  to  be  done "  and 
thought  of  for  all  hands.  And  though  the  doctor  came,  he 
did  not  seem  much  impressed  with  her  state  of  health — left 
a  very  innocent  prescription  that  was  not  sent  for  till  the 
next  day,  and  eased  everybody's  mind  exceedingly.  What 
a  very  comfortable  thing  it  is  to  be  able  to  pin  one's  faith  to 
a  medical  coatsleeve,  and  according  as  it  is  elevated  or 
depressed,  be  soothed  or  terrified. 

Any  disinterested  observer,  JL  think,  would  have  agreed 
with  Esther  and  me,  that  party-giving  was  not  in  any  way 
conducive  to  home  comfort.  That  wretched  day,  lessons 
of  course  were  given  up ;  the  study  being  turned  into 
a  dressing-room,  and  the  nursery  sharing  the  same  fate — my 
room  was  the  sanctuary  where  Grace  and  Esther  sought 
refuge  from  the  bustle  and  confusion  of  the  first  and  second 
floors,  and  no  paradise  it  proved,  Essie  being  unbearably 
peevish  and  Grace  unbearably  provoking.  Aunt  Edith  tore 
herself  away  from  the  claims  of  upholsterer,  florist,  ami 
waiter  for  a  moment,  to  look  in  upon  us — gave  the  final 
directions  about  our  dresses,  and  pronounced  Esther's  sen 
tence,  which  she  had  been  dreading  for  days,  to  wit,  that 
she  must  not  go  downstairs.  It  was  a  most  proper  sentence, 
but  it  was  a  cruel  disappointment,  and  the  child  of  course 
cried  herself  into  another  headache.  I  induced  her  to  go  to 
bed  about  seven  o'clock,  but  she  sat  bolt  upright,  watching 
eagerly  the  operations  of  the  hairdresser,  who  had  come  t( 
Grace  and  me,  before  arranging  Josephine's  hair. 

"  Esther,  do  go  to  sleep,  and  stop  bothering !"  cried 
'Grace.  "  You've  done  nothing  but  worry  this  whole  day." 

A  fresh  burst  of  tears  was  the  answer  to  this,  and  Grace 
was  more  incensed  than  ever. 


BUTLEDGE.  261 

"  I  think  this  is  a  pursuit  of  pleasure  under  difficulties, 
indeed,"  I  exclaimed,  despairing.  "I  hope  all  parties 
are  not  as  much  trouble  !  Will  it  pay,  do  you  suppose  ?" 

"  Cela  depend,"  said  Grace  ;  "  if  you  get  attended  to,  it 
may ;  if  you  have  to  talk  to  the  old  ladies,  and  look  over 
books  of  engravings  in  the  corner,  it  wont." 

I  inly  wondered  which  would  be  my  fate,  as  I  glanced  at 
the  pretty  muslin  on  the  foot  of  the  bed.  "  Not  the  old 
ladies  and  the  engravings  I  hope."  It  was  my  first  party, 
and  though  everything  seemed  to  conspire  to  make  it  a  pun 
ishment,  still  I  would  have  been  more  than  human  if  I  had 
felt  no  excitement  when  I  first  dressed  myself  in  party-dress. 
White  muslin  and  coral  ornaments  were  not  very  elaborate 
certainly,  but  they  were  a  great  contrast  to  the  plain  clothes 
I  had  seen  myself  in  since  I  could  remember.  When  Grace 
was  dressed,  she  Vent  down,  but  Essie  clung  to  me  and 
begged  me  to  stay  so  piteously,  that  I  could  not  resist;  and 
turning  out  the  gas,  I  sat  down  on,  the  bed  by  her,  and  told 
her  stones  by  the  dozen,  and  sung  her  hymns,  in  the  vain 
hope  of  getting  her  to  sleep ;  but  she  seemed  to  grow  wider 
awake  every  minute.  Ten  o'clock  chimed;  the  music 
began  ;  the  carriages  were  rolling  to  the  door,  and  still  she 
held  my  hand  firmly,  and  said,  "  go  on,"  in  a  hopelessly- 
clear  voice,  every  time  I  paused  in  my  recital.  I  was 
beginning  to  be  in  dire  perplexity  about  leaving  her,  when 
the  door  opened,  and  Grace  put  her  head  in,  saying,  hur 
riedly  : 

"  Mamma  sent  me  up  to  say  you  must  come  down 
directly ;  half  the  people  are  here,  and  they  are  beginning 
to  dance.  Come  as  quick  as  you  can,"  and  Grace  disap 
peared. 

There  was  another  burst  of  grief  from  Esther  to  be 
soothed  and  subdued,  and  at  last,  taking  my  gloves  and  fan, 
»ud  kissing  her  good  night,  I  stole  out  of  the  room,  thinking 
her  quite  reconciled ;  but  when  half  way  down  the  stairs,  1 
looked  back,  and  saw  the  child,  in  her  long  white  night 


262  RUTLEDGE. 

gowh,  standing  at  the  head  of  the  staircase,  and  heard  her 
heart-broken  voice  begging  me  to  come  back,  it  was  so  lone- 
some,  she  was  so  sick.  At  the  foot  stood  Grace. 

"  Mamma  is  displeased  that  you  do  not  come." 

What  should  I  do  ?  I  ran  upstairs  again.  Essie  stood 
shivering  at  the  door,  a  bright  spot  on  each  cheek,  and  an 
excited  glitter  in  her  eye. 

"Essie!"  I  exclaimed,  "why  will  you  be  so  naughty? 
Don't  you  know  mamma  has  sent  for  me  twice  ?  Do  you 
want  me  to  be  scolded  ?" 

"  No,  but  I  don't  want  to  be  left ;  it  is  so  lonesome  up 
here." 

"  But  don't  you  know  I  promised  to  send  Felicie  up;  and 
do  I  ever  break  my  promises  ?" 

"  I  don't  want  Felicie  to  come ;  she's  cross,"  said  the 
child. 

"  Well,  then,  Frances  shall  come ;  will  she  do  ?" 

"  Frances  is  busy,  and  you'll  forget  all  about  me  whe& 
you  get  down  there  among  the  people." 

"  No,  I  won't,  my  darling,"  I  said,  stooping  down,  as  she 
put  her  arms  around  my  neck.  "  I  will  send  Frances,  and 
come  up  and  see  you  in  a  little  while  myself.  Be  a  good 
child,  and  go  get  in  bed.  Good  night." 

She  laid  her  burning  little  cheek  against  mine  for  a 
moment ;  then  submissively  went  in,  and  I  turned  to  go 
downstairs.  As  I  rose  from  my  stooping  attitude,  I  looked 
in  at  the  nursery  door,  which,  in  my  hurry,  I  had  forgotten 
was  the  gentlemen's  dressing-room ;  and  that,  as  well  as 
the  hall,  was  strongly  lighted.  Two  gentlemen,  just  within 
the  door,  had  been  witnesses  of  the  scene  of  distress  just 
enacted,  and  apparently  not  inattentive  ones  either.  They 
were  evidently  strangers  to  each  other,  and  one  was  so  to 
me ;  I  never  remembered  to  have  seen  him  before.  The 
other  was  Mr.  Rutledge. 

He  held  out  his  hand  with  a  smile,  as  I  started  back  in 
confusion  on  seeing  them.  I  gave  him  mine  with  a  desp-.- 


BUTLEDGE.  463 

rate  blush,  and  saying,  hurriedly,  that  I  must  go  down  for 
Frances,  without  giving  him  time  for  another  word,  I  ran 
down  the  stairs,  and  into  the  second  hall,  whence,  picking 
my  way  as  daintily  as  I  could,  I  threaded  the  narrowness 
and  darkness  of  the  private  staircase,  that  led  to  the 
butler's  pantry.  There  I  found,  as  I  had  expected,  an 
eager  group  of  domestics  gazing  in  through  the  windows 
into  th'e  parlors,  watching  the  dancing  with  an  interest  only 
second  to  that  of  the  dancers  themselves.  I  singled  out 
Frances  from  the  group,  and  calling  her  to  me,  told  her 
my  errand,  and  she,  with  a  submissive  sigh  for  the  lost 
festivities,  followed  me  upstairs.  I  saw  her  safely  at  the 
door  of  Essie's  room,  then,  turning,  began  to  descend,  this 
time  more  slowly,  and  to  think  seriously  of  the  alarming 
matter  of  my  entree.  As  I  neared  the  parlors,  the  music, 
the  odor  of  the  flowers,  the  brilliant  lights,  the  gay  dresses, 
all  crowded  intoxicatingly  upon  my  brain. 

"I  only  knew  'twas  fair  and  sweet, 
'Twas  wandering  on  enchanted  ground, 
With  dizzy  brow  and  tottering  feet." 

It  was  not  a  ball-room,  it  was  the  fairy-land,  the  magic, 
the  romance,  of  which  I  had  dreamed ;  what  adventures 
lay  within  it  for  me ;  what  untold  delirious  joy  should  I 
experience  when  I  had  crossed  the  threshold.  And  how 
should  I  cross  it  ?  Alone  and  timid,  how  could  I  stem  that 
flashing,  glittering  crowd?  And,  among  them  all,  whose 
protection  should  I  seek,  to  whose  side  should  I  make  my 
way  ?  There  was  no  time  for  hesitation ;  I  was  at  the 
door ;  the  gentleman  whom  I  had  seen  upstairs,  stood  aside 
to  let  me  pass  ;  two  or  three  ladies  made  way  for  me,  and 
in  a  moment  more  I  found  myself  at  my  aunt's  side. 

"  You  are  very  late,"  she  said,  in  a  low  tone. 

"  I  could  not  help  it,  Aunt  Edith,"  I  began  ;  but  a  new 
arrival  tooK  up  her  attention,  and  I  was  left  to  make  my 


264  BUT  LEDGE. 

own  reflections  upon  the  scene  before  me.  It  took  a  few 
minutes  for  me  to  come  to  my  senses  sufficiently  to  look 
about,  and  see  things  reasonably.  It  was  some  time  before 
I  recognized  Josephine  among  the  many  strange  faces. 
She  was  not  dancing,  but,  with  an  admiring  crowd  around 
her,  stood  at  the  other  end  of  the  room,  dispensing  her 
coquettish  smiles  with  tact  and  judgment.  Grace  was 
dancing  with  a  lazy  sort  of  grace  that  became  her.  Her 
partner  was  a  painfully  shy,  undeveloped  college  youth,  of 
whom,  I  could  see,  she  was  making  all  mannor  of  ridicule, 
judging  from  the  contortions  of  merriment  visible  on  the 
face  of  her  vis-d-wis,  Captain  McGuffy,  with  whom  she 
exchanged  a  whispered  witticism  every  time  they  met. 
Phil,  with  a  self-denying  heroism  I  had  not  given  him 
credit  for,  was  doing  the  agreeable  to  every  one,  dancing 
with  all  the  girls  who  didn't  seem  to  be  having  a  nice  time, 
and  doing  the  honors  of  the  house  to  the  gentlemen  with 
out  a  groan.  An  occasional  smile  from  Josephine,  and  a 
few  words  of  approval  from  Mrs.  Churchill,  seemed  to  be 
all  the  reward  he  asked. 

Many  of  the  faces  about  me  were  familiar.  Grace  had 
pointed  them  out  to  me  in  the  street,  and  I  had  occasion 
ally  met  them  in  the  hall ;  but,  of  all  the  crowd,  only  one 
was  an  acquaintance,  and  that  very  far  from  a  familiar  one. 
Josephine's  most  intimate  and  particular  confidante,  Miss 
Ella  Wynkar,  gave  me  a  look  in  passing,  that  was  not 
striking  for  its  graciousness,  and  a  little  nod.  I  had  seen 
her  at  dinner  more  than  once,  when  she  had  dined  with  us, 
and  gone  to  the  opera  under  my  aunt's  chaperonage.  I 
never  could  understand  her  intimacy  with  Josephine ;  I 
knew  they  were  dying  of  jealousy  of  each  other,  and  Jose 
phine,  for  one,  never  omitted!  an  opportunity  of  saying  an 
ill-natured  thing  about  her  friend  behind  her  friend's  back  j 
and  her  friend,  I  felt  certain,  was  not  any  more  scrupulous; 
notwithstanding,  they  were  the  most  loving  and  tender  ol 
companions,  and  continually  seeking  each  other's  society. 


BUTLEDGE.  266 

Josephine  made  visits  with  Ella,  and  Ella  shopped  with 
Josephine.  Mrs.  Churchill  took  Ella  to  the  opera,  and 
Mrs.  Wynkar  chaperoned  Josephine  to  matinees  and  wed 
dings.  Ella  was  the  whitest  of  blondes,  and  neither  intel 
lectually  nor  physically  at  all  in  Josephine's  style  ;  she  had 
not  a  pretty  or  expressive  feature  in  her  face ;  a  genera, 
look  of  whiteness  and  sweetness  about  her,  being  her  sole 
attraction.  She  was  very  much  below  Josephine  in  intelli 
gence,  but  was  not  destitute  of  a  certain  shrewdness  of  her 
own,  which,  with  some  little  exertion,  kept  her  up  to  her 
friend's  level.  She  lacked  Josephine's  nice  French  tact  and 
polish,  and  was  very  American  and  very  New  York  in  her 
rather  "  loud  "  style,  and  very  high-colored  mode  of  ex 
pressing  herself.  Josephine  must  have  an  intimate  friend, 
however,  and  so,  I  suppose,  the  most  advantageous  and 
proper  one  was  selected.  Such  coalitions  are  recognized 
in  society,  whereunto,  of  course,  people  mnst  conform. 

Ella,  as  I  have  said,  was  not  at  the  pains  to  recognize 
me  very  affably  on  the  evening  of  the  party.  I  bit  my  lip 
and  didn't  mind,  but  somehow  the  glamor  of  romance  was 
beginning  to  recede  from  the  scene,  and  I  was  beginning 
only  to  see  a  roomful  of  people,  strange  to  me,  and  none  too 
affectionate  to  each  other,  flirting,  dancing,  quizzing  each 
other  ;  dowagers  in  velvet  watching  daughters  in  tarletan, 
young  beaux  elbowing  old  beaux,  and  every  man  showing 
himself  unmistakably  for  himself.  At  first,  it  amused  me  to 
watch  the  people  and  their  ways,  but  soon,  like  Essie  and 
her  sleigh-ride,  I  began  to  feel  as  if  it  would  be  very  plea 
sant  to  have  somebody  to  talk  to,  and  be  entertained  by 
as  the  other  young  ladies  had.  I  felt  hopelessly  frightened, 
and  shrunk  as  far  as  possible  into  the  corner  behind  my 
aunt,  whenever  I  caught  any  one's  eye ;  which  wasn't  often, 
however,  for  every  one  seemed  too  busy  with  themselves 
and  their  partners,  or  companions,  to  notice  me.  Grace, 
passing  near  me  with  a  young  collegian  or  two,  whispered, 
"  Are  you  having  a  stupid  time  ?"  and  the  truth  that.  I  was 

12 


266  RUTLEDOE. 

having  just  such  a  time,  made  the  blood  rush  to  my  cheeks. 
My  aunt  turned  to  me  and  said : 

"  Why  are  you  so  quiet  ?  Go  and  amuse  yourself;  you 
are  at  home,  you  know — talk  to  some  one,"  and  she  turned 
away. 

I  was  at  home,  yes,  I  knew  that.  As  one  of  the  young 
ladies  of  the  house,  I  was  of  course  entitled  to  be  freed  from 
some  of  the  trammels  that  society  imposes  upon  those  of  my 
age  and  sex.  I  might  with  propriety  go  and  talk  to  any 
young  ladies  who  were  disengaged  and  silent ;  but  I  really 
felt  no  inclination  to  avail  myself  of  this  privilege.  Every 
one  seemed  engaged  but  me ;  no  one  noticed  me,  and  I 
retreated  further  into  the  corner  than  before.  It  was  very 
kind  in  my  aunt  to  tell  me  to  go  and  amuse  myself.  I 
wondered  if  she  had  contented  herself  with  giving  such  a 
kind  permission  to  Josephine  on  the  night  of  her  first 
party,  when  she  was  new  to  society,  and  strange  and 
partner-less  in  it  ? 

"  This  is  society,  then,"  I  said  to  myself.  "  Mr.  Rutledge 
needn't  have  warned  me  so  against  it.  I  do  not  see  much 
danger  of  my  loving  it  too  well.  It  isn't  any  too  pleasant 
to  be  alone  and  unattended  to ;  it  is  rather  bitter  to  feel 
that  every  one  who  looks  at  me  must  think,  '  what  a  dull 
time  that  girl  is  having !'  and  wonder  why  I  know  no  one." 

It  was  bitter  enough,  and  for  a  while  I  longed  to  get  out 
of  it  all,  and  steal  upstairs,  and  be  by  myself,  but  I  knew 
for  the  present  that  was  hopeless,  so  I  did  the  wisest  thing 
I  could  have  done,  viz.,  set  to  work  to  reason  myself  out  of 
my  discontent  and  folly,  and  tried  the  "dodge"  recom 
mended  in  the  old  Greek  comedy,  that  is,  "  being  revenged 
on  fortune  by  becoming  a  philosopher."  And  a  philosopher, 
in  white  muslin  and  coral,  then  and  there  I  became ;  and  in 
ten  minutes,  the  pettishness  had  all  vanished  from  my 
heart,  and,  par  consequent,  from  my  face,  and  I  was  myself 
again. 

This  was  a  strange  termination  of  all  my  day-dreams  j  a 


BUT  LEDGE.  267 

strange  entree  into  the  world;  but  no  doubt  it  was  the  best 
thing  that  could  have  happened  to  me.  Had  I  not  promised 
to  renounce  it,  and  had  it  not  been  very  wrong  for  me  to 
have  gone  on  hoping  to  reap  some  pleasure  from  it,  notwith 
standing  ?  Was  not  this  the  kindest  way  to  bring  to  my 
remembrance  the  vow  and  promise  that  I  had  so  nearly  for 
gotten.  Was  it  not  better  for  me  to  remember  at  the  out* 
set,  that  it  and  I  were  never  to  be  in  league,  never  to  be 
other  than  enemies  ?  That  if  "  there  was  no  way  but  this," 
this  was  not  so  very  hard  and  cruel  a  way  ?  Poor  Frances 
upstairs,  with  her  swollen  eyes  and  wan  face,  had  doubtless 
a  harder  yoke  to  bear  in  her  youth  than  I  had,  and  so,  with 
a  hundred  other  swollen-eyed  and  wan-faced  girls  whom 
I  daily  met  in  the  streets.  "  Let's  think  on  our  marcies,"  I 
mentally  ejaculated,  quoting  with  a  half  smile,  the  words 
of  old  "  Aunt  Chloe  "  to  her  husband  on  their  cruel  part 
ing.  Which,  by  the  way,  is  the  finest  passage  in  all  that 
strange  story  of  "Uncle  Tom;"  a  passage  unalloyed  by 
affectation,  exaggeration  or  false  sentiment — simple,  great, 
and  heroic — worth  twenty  little  Eva's  dying  speeches,  and 
unnatural  angelhood. 

After  the  lapse  of  an  hour,  I  thought  I  might  be  allowed 
to  keep  my  promise  to  Essie,  so  I  stole  quietly  out  of  the 
gay  crowd,  and  went  up  to  my  room.  Esther  had  gone  to 
sleep,  and  Frances,  startled  from  an  attitude  of  weeping, 
obeyed  my  permission  to  go  down  and  watch  the  dancing 
for  half  an  hour,  while  I  should  relieve  guard  and  take  care 
of  the  child,  whose  burning  temples  and  restless  moaning 
made  me  certain  that  it  was  not  right  to  leave  her  alone. 
She  did  not  wake  up,  however,  during  my  vigil,  and  Frances 
came  back  very  punctually.  I  kissed  the  little  sleeper  again, 
and  with  a  very  much  sobered  fancy,  descended  to  the 
parlors.  Mr.  Rutledge  stood  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  and 
joined  me  as  I  reached  the  hall. 

"  Hasn't  la,  petite  gone  to  sleep  yet  ?"  he  asked,  offering 
me  his  arm. 


268  RUT  LEDGE 

"  Oh  yes !  some  time  ago." 

"Then  you  prefer  upstairs  to  downstairs,  even  on  gala 
nights  ?"  he  inquired,  with  a  smile. 

"I  don't  know  exactly,"  I  answered;  but  at  this  moment, 
Phil  made  his  appearance  with  the  gentleman  who  had  been 
at  the  dressing-room  door  when  Essie  had  made  her  unex 
pected  debut. 

"  Ah,  here  you  are !"  he  exclaimed ;  "  we  have  been 
hunting  you  high  and  low  for  a  good  half  hour." 

And  he  presented,  "  Mr.  Viennet." 

The  name,  and  his  very  slight  foreign  accent,  assured  me 
that  this  was  the  young  Frenchman  of  whom  I  had  heard  so 
much  from  Grace  and  Josephine.  He  was  at  once  "the 
best  dancer,"  "  the  handsomest  fellow,"  and  "  the  cleverest 
man  "  in  society,  so  when  he  bowed  very  low  and  asked  me 
to  dance,  it  was  as  if  the  planet  Mercury  had  slid  down  the 
starry  floor  of  heaven  and  demanded  the  honor  of  my  hand. 
All  I  could  do  was  to  drop  my  eyes,  blush  very  much,  and 
assent. 

Mr.  Rutledge  released  me  instantly,  bowed  and  drew 
back.  Mr.  Viennet  gave  me  his  arm,  and  in  a  moment  we 
were  on  the  floor. 

Nobody  that  dances  well  but  loves  it.  I  danced  well,  and 
I  loved  it.  Mr.  Viennet  told  me  he  knew  that,  the  moment- 
he  looked  at  me,  and  as  he  seemed  to  take  a  wicked  plea 
sure  in  saying  such  things,  and  making  me  blush,  I  soon 
regained  my  self-possession,  and  a  certain  degree  of  saucinesa 
wherewith  to  parry  these  remarks.  The  captain  was  my 
vis-a-vis,  and  he  whispered  as  we  met : 

"  Upon  my  soul,  Miss  Josephine  '11  have  to  look  to  her 
laurels  ;  my  friend  Victor  seems  mightily  epris." 

"Is  the  captain  asking  you  to  dance?"  demanded  Mr. 
Viennet. 

"  Remember,  mademoiselle,  you  are  engaged  to  me  for 
the  next." 

The  next  dance  proved  a  polka.    I  had  half  resolved  never 


KUTLEDGE.  269 

to  dance  anything  but  quadrilles ;  I  bad  not  tbougbt  much 
about  tbe  matter,  but  I  had  an  indefinite  sort  of  idea  that 
some  people  condemned  polkas  and  waltzes,  and  that  it 
would  be  better  not  to  indulge  in  them.  But  I  had  made 
no  resolution  strong  enough  to  resist  my  partner's  persua 
sions,  and  that  fine  floor,  and  the  magic  of  the  music. 
Before  I  knew  it,  I  was  flying  down  the  room  with  Mr. 
Viennet,  and  having  once  tasted  of  that  delirious  pleasure, 
there  was  no  putting  the  cup  from  my  lips.  One  dance 
merged  into  another,  polka,  redowa,  waltz,  succeeded  each 
other  in  intoxicating  rapidity ;  a  turn  in  the  hall,  or  an  ice 
in  the  library,  being  the  only  rest  between.  It  did  not  take 
one  whit  from  my  pleasure,  rather  added  extremely  there 
unto,  that  a  face  I  knew  too  well,  bat  sterner  and  colder 
than  I  had  ever  seen  it,  was  watching  me  with  marked  dis 
approval.  I  avoided  meeting  his  eye  as  I  floated  past  him ; 
I  never  laughed  so  gaily  or  danced  so  well  as  when  I  knew 
we  were  near  him ;  my  handsome  partner  owed  half  the 
smiles  I  gave  him,  to  the  fact  of  that  stern  face.  I  had 
been  unnaturally  depressed  too  long  not  to  be  unnaturally 
excited  now.  I  was  all  my  school-days'  self  again,  with  an 
under-current  of  something  stronger  and  deeper,  and  more 
dangerous. 

"  You  don't  look  like  the  same  girl.  How  you  do  love  to 
dance !"  said  Phil,  in  a  low  tone,  as  he  brought  up  some  one 
else  to  introduce.  "  Victor,  my  fine  fellow,  you  must  come 
and  talk  with  somebody  else.  Mrs.  Churchill  says  you  shall 
not  dance  with  her  niece  again.  Go  and  make  your  peace 
with  her." 

"  De  tout  mon  cceur,"  he  returned.  "  And  I  will,  release 
mademoiselle  for  this  dance  ;  but  of  course  she  remembers 
that  she  has  promised  me  the  nexc." 

I  laughed  at  this  bold  invention,  as  I  went  off  with  my 
new  partner  ;  but  Mr.  Viennet  claimed  me  resolutely  at  the 
end  of  the  quadrille,  and  though  there  was  no  lack  of  part 
ners  now,  still  he  continued  to  be  tie  prominent  one,  molffH 


270  RUTL&.OOE, 

Josephine's  black  looks,  and  Aunt  Edith's  distant  coldness. 
Not  all  the  king's  horses,  nor  all  the  king's  men,  could  bring 
me  back  to  where  I  had  stood  before  I  knew  my  power.  1 
was  dizzy  with  my  triumph  yet ;  it  was  no  time  to  talk  to 
me  of  moderation.  I  had  just  begun  to  feel  that  there  was 
no  reason  why  I  should  not  enjoy  myself  as  other  girls  en 
joyed  themselves.  I  did  not  feel  submissive  toward  those 
who  had  kept  me  down  so  long.  I  answered  Josephine's 
sarcasm  with  a  sarcasm  as  biting.  I  returned  Grace's  com 
pliment  with  interest.  To  Ellerton  Wynkar,  who  asked  me 
to  dance,  I  regretted,  but  was  engaged  for  the  rest  of  the 
evening,  and  sent  him  away  with  a  hauteur  that  paid  off  all 
old  scores.  At  supper,  I  held  a  miniature  court  at  one  end 
of  the  room,  and  not  Josephine's  self  ever  swayed  a  more 
despotic  rule.  And  when  "  the  German "  began,  no  ouo 
ever  led  the  German  but  Victor  Viennet,  and  with  no  one 
else  would  he  dance,  so  I  was  then  and  there  initiated  into 
the  intricacies  of  that  genteel  game  of  romps. 

As  we  paused  in  the  first  figure,  I  glanced  at  my  silent 
mentor.  He  was  just  bidding  my  aunt  good  night,  and  left 
the  room  without  a  look  toward  the  dancers.  My  interest 
in  the  game  began  to  flag  somewhat  after  that,  but  still  it 
was  dancing,  and  I  loved  that  well  enough  never  to  tire. 

The  dance  was  ended,  and  the  room  nearly  deserted,  be 
fore  my  partner  left  me.  As  the  door  closed  on  the  last 
guest,  Josephine  threw  herself  into  an  easy-chair,  ex 
claiming  : 

"  I'm  tired  to  death  !     I  thought  they  would  never  go." 

*'  Tired  !  I  could  dance  till  noon,"  I  cried.  "  It's  a 
positive  punishment  to  go  to  bed.  Good  night,"  and  I  ran 
apstairs. 

It  was  one  thing  to  go  to  bed,  and  another  thing  to  go 
to  sleep — one  thing  to  shut  my  eyes,  but  quite  another  thing 
to  shut  out  the  pageantry  of  fancy  that  the  darkness  did  not 
quench.  Conjecture,  hope,  anticipation,  longing,  made  wild 
work  in  my  brain  that  night.  Everything  was  too  new, 


BUTLEDG-E.  271 

and  strange,  and  dazzling,  to  yield  at  once  to  the  control 
>f  reason.  The  curtain  had  risen  upon  too  brilliant  a  scene 
to  fade  from  my  imagination,  even  after  it  had  fallen.  New 
faces,  snatches  of  music,  conversations,  danced  through  my 
mind;  but  above  all  other  sensations,  a  new  sense  of  injus 
tice  and  resentment  made  itself  felt,  and  defiance  took  the 
place  of  the  unquestioning  submission  I  had  rendered  before. 
This  was  the  thorn  in  my  new  crown  of  roses  that  took 
away  from  it  its  simplicity,  its  unalloyed  beauty,  and,  per 
haps,  it*  innocence. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

14  Who  pleasure  follows  pleasure  slays ; 

God's  wrath  upon  himself  lie  wreaks ; 
Bat  all  delights  rejoice  his  days 
Who  takes  with  thanks,  yet  never  seeks." 

COVENTRY  PATMOKL 

Two  days  after  this,  I  was  surprised  by  the  appearance 
on  my  plate,  at  breakfast,  of  two  notes.  The  first  proved 
to  be  an  invitation  for  a  party  from  a  Mrs.  Humphrey, 
cards  for  which  Mrs.  and  Miss  Churchill  had  received  a 
week  ago. 

"  Well !"  exclaimed  Josephine,  unceremoniously,  "  I 
wonder  what  inspired  Mrs.  Humphrey  to  send  you  an  invi 
tation." 

"  It  would  be  difficult  to  say,"  I  returned,  taking  up  the 
second.  "  Certainly  no  suggestion  from  you." 

"  Alps  on  Alps !"  exclaimed  Grace,  looking  over  my 
shoulder.  "  Tickets  for  the  Charity  Ball !  What  next  ?" 

"  What,  indeed,"  I  said.  "  John,  some  more  sugar  in 
my  coffee,  if  you  please." 

"  Really,  you  don't  seem  much  excited  by  your  invita 
tions.  I  suppose  you  don't  intend  to  accept  them  ?" 

"  Accept  them  !"  echoed  Josephine.  "  What  an  idea  ! 
It  would  be  perfectly  absurd  to  think  of  it,  when  it's  under- 
tood  that  she's  not  out  yet." 

"  I  think  I'll  risk  that,"  I  answered,  decidedly.  "  If  Aunt 
Edith  has  no  objection,  I  will  avail  myself  of  any  invitations 
that  I  may  receive  for  the  next  ten  days.  After  that,  Lent, 
you  know,  will  decide  the  matter  for  us  all." 

"  You  must  follow  the  dictates  of  your  own  judgment," 

2T2 


KUTLEDGB.  273 

returned  my  aunt,  coldly.     "  Staying  at  home  was  your 
own  choice,  going  out  is  at  your  own  option." 

"I  know,  dear  aunt,"  I  replied,  with  unaltered  sang 
froid,  "  that  you  would  do  anything 'to  indulge  me  in  any- 
thing  reasonable,  and  as  I  have  quite  set  my  heart  upon 
this,  I  am  sure  you  will  not  make  any  objection  to  it.  You 
are  the  last  person  to  put  anything  in  the  way  of  my  plea 
sure  and  advantage." 

"  Pleasure  and  advantage  are  not  always  synonymous 
terms,  my  dear.  What  you  might  be  pleased  to  consider 
pleasure,  I  might  look  upon  as  anything  but  advantageous, 
you  know." 

"  Oh  !  we  shall  not  differ  as  to  that,  I  fancy.  You  can 
not  be  more  careful  of  me  than  of  Josephine,  and  she  has 
certainly  tested  pretty  thoroughly  the  merits  of  the  ques 
tion.  I  should  not  think  of  going  out  as  she  does,  to  two 
or  three  parties  of  an  evening,  and  spending  the  intervening 
hours  of  daylight  in  bed ;  but  just  three  or  four  balls  before 
the  season  closes,  to  see  what  it's  all  like,  I  really  must  en 
joy,  with  your  permission." 

"  Or  without  it,"  muttered  Josephine.  "  You  have 
enough  aplomb  to  sustain  you  in  that  or  any  other  imperti 
nence  you  might  undertake." 

"  Josephine,"  said  her  mother,  sternly,  "  you  forget  your 
self.  My  dear,"  to  me,  "  you  know  I  shall  put  no  obstacle 
in  the  way  of  your  enjoyment.  You  have  my  full  permis- 
sion  to  do  as  you  think  best." 

"  Thank  you,"  I  answered ;  "  and  I  have  the  greatest  de 
sire  to  go  to  one  of  these  mammoth  charity  balls.  How 
lucky  that  it  comes  to-night,  and  that  Mrs.  Humphrey's  is 
to-morrow,  so  that  I  can  go  to  both." 

"  In  what,  if  I  may  ask,"  said  Grace,  "  do  you  propose 
appearing  ?" 

"  That's  a  question,  I  fancy,  that  has  not  occurred  to  oui 
young  friend,"  remarked  Josephine. 

"  It's  easily  enough  settled,"  I  answered.     "  White  inus* 
]  2* 


274  RU1LEDGE 

lin,  '  with  variations,'  will  be  a  sufficient  toilette  for  me,  you 
know." 

"  You'll  excuse  me  for  saying,  that  I  think  it  is  a  matter 
of  very  little  moment  to  any  one  but  yourself,"  said  she, 
with  a  laugh,  as  she  rose  from  the  table. 

"  Don't  be  spiteful,  Joseph,"  said  Grace,  the  only  error 
of  whose  tactics  was,  that  she  could  not  confine  herself  to 
any  one  side  in  an  encounter,  and  could  not  resist  adminis 
tering  a  blow  on  any  exposed  cranium,  indiscriminately  of 
friend  or  foe — "  don't  be  spiteful,  Joseph.  She  couldn't  help 
taking  off'  Victor,  you  know.  It  was  trying,  to  be  sure,  but 
then  it  left  you  more  time  for  '  the  substantiate.'  " 

Josephine,  pressing  her  lips  together,  darted  a  threaten 
ing  look  at  her  sister,  who,  with  a  pleasant  little  nod,  slipped 
through  the  folding  doors  and  vanished. 

"  May  I  speak  to  you  a  moment  ?"  I  said,  following  Mrs. 
Churchill  into  the  butler's  pantry. 

"  Certainly,"  she  answered,  in  a  tone  that  did  not  invite 
confidence. 

I  had  followed  my  aunt  to  say  two  things  to  her :  the  first 
was  about  myself,  the  second  was  about  Esther.  I  had 
meant  to  say  that  if  she  really  thought  I  was  doing  an  un 
wise  thing  in  going  to  these  balls,  I  was  willing  to  give  them 
up.  Conscience  had  made  a  suggestion  or  two  that  morn 
ing,  and  I  was  not  yet  careless  about  its  admonitions.  A 
kind  word  of  advice,  a  look  of  motherly  reluctance  to  deny 
me  pleasure,  and  yet  of  motherly  solicitude  for  my  good, 
would  have  settled  the  doubt,  and  put  me  in  the  right  way. 
But  the  tone  in  which  she  said  "  certainly,"  and  proceeded 
to  fit  the  key  into  the  wine-closet,  without  so  much  as  a 
look  toward  me,  roused  all  the  evil  in  my  heart. 

"  You  will  never  be  troubled  with  any  of  my  repentances," 
I  thought,  angrily  ;  and  then,  in  a  tone  that  I  suppose  took 
its  color  from  my  thoughts,  I  said : 

"  I  came  to  say,  Aunt  Edith,  that  perhaps  you  are  not 
av  are  how  much  it  irritates  Essie  to  have  Felicie  take  car« 


KUTLEDGE.  275 

of  hsr,  Felicie  doesn't  seem  to  have  a  pleasant  way  with 
her,  and  now  she  is  confined  to  the  nursery,  she  is  continu 
ally  fretted  and  unhappy.  I  find  her  more  feverish  every 
time  I  go  upstairs,  and  I  thought  perhaps  if  you  were 
willing  to  let  Frances  sit  up  there  instead,  she  would 
amuse  and  keep  her  quiet  better.  She  seems  to  like 
Frances." 

Mrs.  Churchill  turned  around  and  regarded  me  atten. 
tively  for  a  moment,  then  said : 

"  I  am  sorry  that  your  own  good  sense  did  not  teach  you 
the  impropriety  of  such  an  interference  as  this,  and  that  I 
am  obliged  to  remind  you  of  our  relative  positions,  before 
you  can  understand  how  much  such  a  thing  as  this  ofiends 
me.  The  management  of  the  household  is  my  province,  and 
any  interference  or  advice  concerning  it  I  reject  decidedly. 
If  Esther  is  peevish  and  ill-tempered,  I  certainly  hope  Felicie 
will  be  strict  with  her.  I  have  no  intention  of  humoring  her 
caprices,  or  disarranging  the  family  to  suit  her  whims. 
You  may  dismiss  the  subject  from  your  mind  entirely." 

I  bowed  and  left  the  room,  with  what  bitter  and  resent 
ful  feelings  it  is  easy  to  imagine.  When  Essie  came  crying 
to  the  door  of  my  room,  half  an  hour  after,  I  sent  her 
away ;  I  was  busy,  she  must  not  come  in,  and  though  her 
miserable  face  haunted  me,  I  stubbornly  put  back  the  coun 
sel  that  it  gave  me.  I  had  been  told  not  to  interfere,  and 
I  would  obey.  All  day  I  did  not  interfere — all  day  the  evil 
spirit  ruled,  and  I  heard,  without  a  remonstrance,  the  storm 
from  the  nursery,  which,  however,  gradually  subsided  as 
the  day  advanced.  I  had  enough  employment,  meantime, 
to  keep  down  conscience  ;  there  was  a  flounce  of  my  white 
dress  to  be  repaired,  and  the  blue  bows  to  be  made  before 
evening.  Mr.  Waschlager  did  not  come ;  Mr.  Olman,  poor 
man,  had  been  ill  for  a  week,  and  to-morrow  was  Miss  Ber- 
beau's  day,  so  there  was  nothing  of  duty  to  fill  up  the  hourn 
that  would  have  hung  heavily  if  it  had  not  been  for  the  an 
ticipations  of,  and  preparations  for,  the  evening. 


276  BDTLEDGE. 

I  turned  the  key  of  my  door  on  Grace,  and  the  key  of  my 
heart  on  poor  little  Essie,  and  toward  evening  threw  myself 
into  a  chair  by  the  fire,  and  read  the  latest  number  of  "  The 
Newcomes."  And  who  ever  read  Thackeray  without  feel 
ing  the  greatest  longing  to  see  the  world  which  he  de 
cries  ?  Who  ever  laid  down  a  volume  of  his  without  a 
more  eager  thirst  for  the  pomps  and  vanities  than  they  had 
ever  felt  before  ?  Who  wouldn't  have  been  Ethel,  "  with 
all  swelldom  at  her  feet,"  even  if  she  did  cheat  herself  of 
her  happiness,  and  stored  up  sorrow  for  the  heavy  years  to 
come  ?  Who  could  have  the  heart  to  say  that  Pen,  in  his 
zenith,  wasn't  to  be  envied  ?  or  that  George  Osborne  wasn't 
a  good  fellow?  I,  for  one,  never  felt  any  less  attracted  to 
ward  them  because  Mr.  Thackeray,  after  spending  on  them 
the  finest  colors  on  his  pallet,  tells  us  they  are  not  to  be 
approved  after  ah1,  and  that  they  are  not  in  the  right  way, 
and  that  they  have  any  amount  of  discipline  to  go  through 
before  they  are  perfected.  I  always  felt  inclined  to  "  skip  " 
the  discipline  ;  the  natural  man  was  the  genuine  one — the 
improvement  wasn't  spicy.  So,  on  this  occasion,  I  read  on, 
fascinated,  till  twilight's  gradual  fingers  stole  between  me 
and  the  page,  and  I  reluctantly  gave  it  up,  and  dreamed  on 
about  the  story  till  the  dinner  bell  rang. 

Then  I  started  up,  struck  with  a  feeling  of  remorse  that 
Essie  had  missed  her  accustomed  twilight  story  for  the  first 
time  this  winter.  I  smoothed  my  hair  and  hurried  into  the 
nursery.  Silence  reigned  there ;  Felicie  sat  by  the  dim 
light,  quietly  pursuing  her  work.  I  asked  for  Essie,  and 
she  rather  sullenly  pointed  to  the  bed.  It  was  unusual  for 
her  to  sleep  a*  this  hour ;  indeed  at  all  hours  she  was  a 
light  sleeper,  and  I  had  never  before  known  her  to  be 
willing  to  lie  down  even  in  the  daytime,  so  it  was  with 
some  surprise  that,  on  stooping  down,  I  saw  she  was  sleep 
ing,  and  sleeping  heavily. 

"  Why  does  she  sleep  so  soundly,  Felicie  ?"  I  said, 
looking  up. 


RUTLEDGE,  277 

u  Because  she's  sleepy,  I  suppose,  mademoiselle,"  she 
answered,  rather  shortly. 

It  was  not  wortk  Avhile  being  angry  with  the  woman,  and 
indeed  I  did  not  feel  like  resenting  any  impertinence  to 
myself,  as  I  looked  down  at  the  quiet  face  of  the  little  girl. 
Asleep,  and  free  from  the  haggard,  restless  expression  that 
her  features  ordinarily  wore,  she  was  almost  pretty,  almost 
child-like,  but  even  in  sleep  there  was  a  weary  look  about 
her  that  was  pitiful.  "Poor  little  mite,"  I  murmured, 
"I've  been  unkind  to  you  all  day.  Why  won't  you  wake 
up  and  kiss  me  ?" 

But  she  did  not  wake ;  and  when,  in  the  selfishness  of 
my  self-reproach,  I  lifted  her  up  and  kissed  her,  in  the  hope 
that  it  would  rouse  her,  the  little  arms  fell  down,  limp  and 
lifeless,  and  the  little  head  sunk  heavily  back  on  the 
pillow,  and  she  slept  on  unmoved.  My  interference  in  the 
morning  had  not  been  without  its  effect :  as  I  left  by  one 
door,  my  aunt  entered  by  another.  She  had  been  up  twice 
since  morning,  and  I  could  see  she  was  uneasy ;  but, 
looking  down  at  the  child,  I  heard  her  say,  in  a  tone  of 
relief : 

"  Ah !  she's  sleeping  nicely  now !"  and  the  voice  of 
Felicie  responded  blandly.  I  think  it  was  a  load  off  her 
mind,  for  at  dinner  she  was  unusually  affable. 

Phil  and  Captain  McGuffy  were  dining  with  us,  and  were 
to  accompany  us  in  the  evening.  The  captain  was  ex 
tremely  gracious  to  me  ;  and  as  on  former  occasions  he  haa 
appeared  as  nearly  unconscious  of  my  presence  as  was 
possible,  I  simply  concluded  that  the  sagacious  captain  war 
like  the  rest  of  the  world,  and  was  better  satisfied  to 
trust  looking  through  his  neighbors'  glasses  than  through 
his  own. 

"Ever  so  many  people,"  he  said  to  me,  as  the'  soup  waa 
being  removed  (the  captain  rarely  conversed  much  while 
there  was  anything  engrossing  OP  the  table),  "ever  so 
many  people  have  asked  me  about  sending  you  invitations, 


278  RUTLEDGE. 

and  I've  told  'em  by  all  means;  for  you  certainly  were  going 
out." 

"  Why  didn't  you  remind  them  of  Grace  and  Esther, 
and  let  them  have  the  whole  of  the  nursery,  while  they 
were  about  it  ?"  asked  Josephine,  scornfully. 

"  Grace  can  speak  for  herself,"  said  that  young  person, 
tartly.  "  You  may  tell  them,  if  they  ask  anything  about 
wte,"  she  continued,  turning  to  the  captain,  "  that  they 
needn't  look  for  my  debut  till  Josephine  is  disposed  of,  and 
I  am,  par  excellence,  Miss  Churchill." 

"  Then,"  said  the  captain,  gallantly,  "  you  will  not  have 
a  long  time  to  wait,  if  what  they  say  is  true.  I  hear  it 
hinted,  Miss  Josephine,  that  since  Mr.  Rutledge  came 
from  abroad  this  last  time,  he  is  quite  changed,  softened, - 
you  know,  and  made  rather  a  society  man ;  and  they  do 
say  that  his  friends  in  Gramercy  Square  have  something  to 
do  Avith  it." 

"  I  can't  imagine  how,"  said  Josephine,  all  smiles  and 
blushes. 

"If  Joseph  knew  when  she  was  well  off,"  interposed 
Grace,  who  loved  to  damp  her  sister's  triumphs,  "  she 
wouldn't  blush  ;  she  doesn't  look  well ;  she  grows  maho 
gany  color,  doesn't  she  Phil.  Why,  you're  blushing  too ! 
What's  the  matter  with  everybody  ?" 

"Everybody  is  blushing  at  your  rudeness,"  said  Mrs. 
Churchill,  gravely.  "  I  am  sorry  to  be  obliged  to  reprove 
you  at  the  table ;  but  I  assure  you,  if  you  are  not  more 
careful  "• 

"  Oh,  mamma !  you've  always  said  it  wasn't  polite  to 
deliver  a  reprimand  in  company  ;  don't  break  through  your 
rule.  I  won't  say  another  word  about  blushing.  Let's 
talk  of  something  pleasanter.  So,"  she  continued,  turning 
to  the  captain,  "  they  really  say  Mr.  Rutledge  wants  to 
marry  Josephine  ?" 

"  Grace,  leave  the  table,"  said  her  mother,  concisely,  but 
In  <i  tone  there  was  no  mistaking,  and  which  fell  on  th« 


KU1LEDG-E.  279 

ears  of  the  startled  company  with  uncomfortable  clearness, 
and  on  none  more  unexpectedly  than  on  those  of  the  young 
delinquent  herself,  who  had  never  "been  so  unequivocally 
disgraced  before.  She  had  trusted  greatly  to  her  mother's 
partiality  and  her  own  acuteness  in  warding  off  reproof, 
and  this,  took  her  quite  by  surprise.  She  had  not  calcu 
lated  the  dangerous  nature  of  the  ground  she  was  treading 
on,  nor  the  decision  of  her  mother's  character  when  once 
roused,  and  so  this  edict  came  upon  her  like  a  clap  of 
thunder.  She  was  constitutionally  incapable  of  blushing, 
or  of  looking  confused,  but  she  approached  on  this  occa 
sion  more  nearly  to  a  state  of  embarrassment  than  I  had 
ever  supposed  she  could  ;  but  recovering  herself  in  a 
moment,  she  deliberately  folded  her  napkin  and  put  it  on 
the  table,  pushed  back  her  chair,  made  a  low  courtesy,  and 
saying,  "Bon  soir,  mesdames;  bon  soir,  messieurs,"  re 
treated  in  good  order. 

Rather  an  awkward  pause  ensued  upon  her  exit ;  but  it 
was  soon  broken  by  Mrs.  Churchill's  half  laughing  apology 
for  her  pertness,  and  Josephine  was  too  much  delighted 
with  her  adversary's  discomfiture  to  be  long  silent.  And 
she  almost  forgot  to  be  spiteful  to  me,  too,  in  the  triumph 
of  her  acknowledged  conquest.  Even  the  dreaded  task  of 
dressing  and  preparing  for  the  ball  was  accomplished  with 
out  half  of  its  accustomed  drawbacks.  Grace  wisely  kept 
out  of  sight,  and  Frances  was  less  fluttering  and  timid  than 
usual,  so  that  at  nine  o'clock  we  all  mustered  in  the  parlor 
with  comparatively  undisturbed  tempers. 

I  had  left  Esther  still  asleep  when  I  came  down.  Felicie 
had  undressed  her  and  put  her  back  in  bed  without  arous 
ing  her.  "  You'd  hardly  let  me  go  so  quietly  if  you  were 
awake,  I  think,"  I  said  to  myself,  as  I  bent  down  to  kiss 
her. 

I  found  myself  much  more  excited  than  I  mean*  to  be,  as 
the  carriage  drew  near  the  'Academy  of  Music.  My  excite 
ment,  however,  had  time  enough  to  oooi^  for  carriagei 


280  RTJTLEDGE. 

choked  the  streets  on  every  hand,  and  it  was  the  work  of 
half  an  hour  to  effect  an  entrance.  The  steps  were  crowded, 
the  lobbies  were  crowded,  the  cloak-room  was  a  hopeless 
crush,  but  the  full  sense  of  bewilderment  did  not  overcome 
me,  till  following  the  captain  and  Mrs.  Churchill,  we 
ascended  another  pair  of  stairs,  and  passing  through  a  side 
door,  stood  looking  down  upon  the  magnificent  scene 
below.  The  captain  said  he  had  never  seen  anything  finer 
in  this  country,  so  I  felt  at  liberty  to  be  enchanted  with  it. 
The  decorations  and  lights  were  brilliant,  the  music  delight 
ful,  and  the  sight  of  so  many  thousands  of  gaily-dressed 
people  crowding  the  boxes,  the  passages,  the  floor,  could 
not  fail  to  excite  the  enthusiasm  of  one  so  new  to  such  scenes 
as  I  was.  To  Josephine,  on  the  other  hand,  the  ball  seemed 
by  no  means  a  wholly  rapturous  affair.  A  ruthless  foot  had 
trodden  on  her  dress,  and  torn  the  lowest  flounce ;  Phil  was 
out  of  humor,  and  refused  to  be  devoted;  the  captain  had 
his  hands  full  with  mamma,  and  Josephine  searched  in  vain 
among  the  crowd  for  the  one  or  ones  she  wanted.  We  were 
in  a  private  box,  and  too  far  from  the  floor  to  recognize  the 
dancers  easily,  and  by  some  neglect,  the  opera-glasses  had 
been  left  in  the  carriage.  Josephine  was  unspeakably 
annoyed.  They  might  as  well  be  looking  out  of  the  third- 
story  window  at  home,  she  declared.  For  me,  the  scene 
was  enough  for  the  present,  without  any  nearer  interest  in 
it.  If  I  could  have  been  further  forward,  it  would  have 
been  pleasure  enough  to  me  to  have  looked  on,  but  my  aunt 
and  cousin  occupying  the  front  of  the  box,  left  me  no  view 
of  the  house,  but  over  their  heads. 

By  and  by,  however,  the  door  of  the  box  opened,  and 
Mr.  Kutledge  entered.  He  had  exchanged  a  few  words 
with  me  before  Josephine  saw  him;  her  face  lighted  up 
instantly,  and  after  a  cordial  welcome  from  mamma,  a  place 
was  made  for  him  in  front.  This,  however,  he  declined  to 
occupy,  as  the  captain  had  been  on  the  ground  before  hin\ 
and  was  better  entitled  to  the  position.  He  had  an  opera- 


BUTI    EDGE.  281 

glass,  which  he  handed  to  Josephine,  and  good  humor  wan 
partially  restored.  The  captain  availed  himself  of  the  front 
seat,  and  criticised  the  dancers  for  madame's  benefit ;  Phil 
stood  behind  his  cousin's  chair,  and  Mr.  Rut/ledge  was  left 
to  me.  I  knew  this  arrangement  did  not  suit ;  I  knew  my 
aunt  was  hearing  very  little  of  the  captain's  commentary ;  I 
knew  that  Josephine,  but  for  Phil's  jealous  watchfulness, 
would  have  paid  much  more  heed  to  Mr.  Rutledge's  low 
conversation  with  me,  than  to  her  desired  opera-glass.  I 
remembered,  but  too  vividly,  the  conversation  at  dinner ; 
and  though  I  struggled  hard  with  my  pride  and  my  timidity, 
the  words  died  on  my  lips,  my  answers  were  hesitating  and 
reserved,  and  for  the  most  part,  insincere ;  I  said  the  very 
things  that,  the  next  moment,  I  would  have  given  worlds  to 
have  unsaid ;  I  felt  that  every  word  was  estranging  us  more 
hopelessly,  and  yet  there  seemed  a  spell  upon  us — I  could 
not  be  myself.  The  questions  I  had  meant  to  ask  him,  if  I 
should  ever  have  a  chance,  the  sentences  of  which  I  had  said 
to  myself  a  hundred  times,  I  could  now  no  more  have  uttered 
than  if  they  had  been  in  an  unknown  tongue. 

"When  he  spoke  of  Rutledge,  the  blood  that  always 
flashed  into  my  face  at  the  name,  now  rushed  to  my  heart, 
and  left  me  paler  and  more  listless  than  before.  If  my 
manner  wore  any  change  while  he  talked  of  his  return  there 
in  a  few  days,  and  of  my  friends,  Kitty  and  Stephen,  Madge 
and  Tigre,  it  was  an  increased  indifference  and  coldness.  I 
said  no  more  than  "yes"  when  he  asked  me  if  I  still 
remembered  them  with  interest,  and  "  I  don't  know 
exactly,"  when  he  asked  what  message  he  should  take  to 
them  from  me.  Then  he  changed  the  subject,  and  with  his 
accustomed  way  of  reading  my  face  while  he  talked,  he 
asked  me  about  my  impressions  of  society.  Which  was  most 
to  my  taste  now,  city  or  country? 

"I  don't  know  exactly,"  I  said,  hesitatingly. 

"  I  think  I  know,"  he  said,  with  a  laugh  that  nettled  me, 
low  and  pleasant  as  it  was.  "  I  think  there  is  small  doubt 


282  RUTL&DGE. 

about  ycrar  preferences  just  now.  You  acknowledge  my 
wisdom  at  last,  dc  you  not  ?  You  see  it  was  best  for  you 
to  come  to  the  city?" 

"  Yes,"  I  said,  lifting  my  eyes  for  a  moment.  "  You 
were  very  right.  I  ought  to  thank  you  very  much  for  your 
advice." 

"  My  dear,"  said  my  aunt,  leaning  toward  us,  "  you  can 
not  see  at  all  there.  You  must  take  my  place  for  a  little 
while,  I  insist  upon  it." 

The  captain  rose  with  great  empressem^nt^  and  insisted 
upon  my  accepting  his  seat,  and  in  the  midst  of  the  con 
fusion  consequent  upon  this  change,  the  door  of  the  box 
opened  again,  and  Mr.  Viennet  entered.  Mr.  Rutledge  was 
placing  a  chair  for  me  as  I  looked  up  and  recognized  the 
new  comer.  The  chilled  and  frightened  blood  that  had 
crept  fluttering  round  my  heart,  at  this  moment  rushed  into 
my  face,  and  burned  guiltily  in  my  cheeks,  as  I  caught  Mr. 
Rutledge's  eye.  Mr.  Viennet,  after  a  moment  devoted  to 
salutation,  inquiry  and  compliment,  entered  a  protest  against 
our  remaining  any  longer  in  such  a  detestable  corner,  pro 
nouncing  it  detestable,  in  his  charming  little  French  way. 
No  one  could  get  at  us ;  he  had  only  found  us  by  the 
merest  chance.  We  must  come  downstairs — everybody 
was  on  the  floor — everybody  was  dancing.  He  assured 
madame  it  was  perfectly  convenable  /  it  was  spoiling  the 
pleasure  of  too  many  to  hide  ourselves  any  longer. 

This  met  Josephine's  views  exactly,  and  she  importuned 
"  mamma "  very  prettily  to  yield.  "  Mamma "  looked 
doubtingly  for  a  moment  at  Mr.  Rutledge,  who  responded 
to  the  look  by  saying  that  he  really  thought  her  strict  ideas 
of  propriety  might  allow  this  liberty  without  suffering  any 
outrage.  It  was  something  new  for  New  York,  but  these 
balls  had  taken  very  well,  and  the  best  people  attended 
them,  not  only  as  spectators,  but  as  participators.  As  for 
dancing,  he  said,  with  a  slight  shrug,  he  rather  wondered  at 
any  lady's  liking  suoh  an  exhibition;  but  a  promenade 


t&rjTLEDGE.  283 

on  the  floor  for  half  an  hour  or  so,  he  ically  should  think 
ve  would  find  more  entertaining  than  remaining  in  our 
DOX. 

This  partly  settled  the  wavering  in  Mrs.  Churchill's  mind, 
and  with  a  dainty  sort  of  reluctance,  she  gave  her  consent  to 
our  going  on  the  floor  for  a  little  while. 

"  Cheek  by  jowl  with  Tom,  Dick  and  Harry,"  muttered 
Phil,  giving  his  arm  to  Josephine,  who  took  it  with  but  in 
different  grace,  and  bit  her  lip  in  annoyance,  as,  standing 
nearest  the  door,  Mr.  Rutledge  and  Mr.  Viennet  at  the  same 
moment  offered  me  an  arm.  Can  any  girl  understand  the 
impulse  that  made  me  accept  Mr.  Viennet's  ?  No  man  pos 
sibly  can ;  my  only  hope  of  comprehension  is  from  my  own . 
incomprehensible,  perverse,  self-torturing  sex. 

Once  on  the  floor,  it  was  hardly  to  be  expected  that  we 
could  obey  my  aunt's  injunction  to  keep  together,  and 
within  sight  of  her.  In  five  minutes  her  ermine  and  dia 
monds,  and  the  captain's  moustache  and  epaulettes,  were, 
though  very  dear,  of  course,  to  memory,  utterly  lost  to 
sight,  and  Paul  and  Virginia  were  not  more  romantically 
alone  than  were  we,  in  that  vast  human  wilderness.  It  was 
a  very  amusing  and  nice  thing  to  be  lost.  For  half  an  hour 
we  searched  for  our  party,  though  not,  it  must  be  confessed, 
as  if  our  Avhole  happiness  in  life  depended  on  our  success, 
but  no  trace  of  them  could  be  discovered. 

"  We  must  amuse  ourselves  alors,  mademoiselle,  and  let 
them  look  for  us,"  said  my  companion.  "  Was  there  ever 
such  a  waltz  before  ?  You  cannot  resist  it  any  longer,  I 
know  you  cannot." 

Perhaps  I  might  have  resisted  it,  as  well  as  his  eloquent 
pleading,  if,  raising  my  eyes  at  this  moment  to  the  boxes 
we  had  occupied,  I  had  not  caught  sight  of  Josephine  and 
Mr.  Rtttledge,  who  had  returned  there,  evidently  much 
more  interested  in  each  other  than  in  anything  below  them. 

"  I'll  dance  once,"  I  said,  and  in  a  moment  his  arm  was  on 
my  waist,  and  we  were  floating  along  the  elastic  floor  to  guoh 


284r  14  CJ  T  L  E  D  G  E  . 

music  as  the  fairies  dance  to,  on  soft  summer  nights,  with 
the  blue  vault  of  heaven  above  their  heads,  and  the  green 
sward  beneath  their  feet,  and  all  wild  ecstatic  and  untamed 
rapture  thrilling  in  their  elfin  bosoms. 

Conscience  was  drugged  that  night ;  self-will  and  pride, 
self-appointed  regents,  were  holding  sway  as  only  usurpers 
can ;  and  the  glowing  hours  fled  away  without  record  or 
remorse. 

"  N^importef1  murmured  my  companion,  when  I  sug 
gested  a  doubt,  and  n'importe  I  allowed  it  to  be,  as,  whirl 
ing  giddily  from  end  to  end  of  the  vast  area,  or  sauntering 
slowly  through  the  gradually  lessening  crowd,  we  let  the 
minutes  slip  away  into  hours.  It  was  rather  a  startling 
recall  to  stern  reality,  when,  at  one  end  of  the  hall,  sud 
denly  encountering  Phil,  he  laid  a  heavy  hand  on  my  part 
ner's  arm,  exclaiming : 

"  Victor,  my  boy,  if  you've  any  mercy  on  that  unlucky 
girl,  come  this  way.  There  is  such  a  scolding  in  store  for 
her  as  she  never  had  before.  The  carriage  has  been  waiting 
an  hour,  and  the  captain  and  I,  being  detailed  for  the  de 
tective  service,  have  pursued  you  faithfully,  but  you  have 
eluded  us  most  skillfully,  I'll  do  you  the  justice  to  say ! 
And  Mr.  Rutledge  and  the  ladies  have  watched  you  from 
upstairs,  and  said — well,  we  won't  say  what  pretty  things." 

"  Extraordinary  !"  exclaimed  Victor.  "  Why,  we  have 
been  hunting  for  you  till  we  were  entirely  discouraged 
disheartened,  in  despair !" 

"  Ah,  well !"  exclaimed  Phil,  with  a  laugh,  leading  the 
way.  "  I  only  hope  you'll  be  able  to  make  Mrs.  Churchill 
believe  it.  It's  my  duty  to  prepare  you  for  the  worst,  how 
ever." 

"  And  our  duty  to  be  brave,"  said  my  comrade.  "  And 
fortune  favors  such,  they  tell  us,  mademoiselle." 

Certainly  I  could  not  feel  otherwise  than  grateful  to  my 
protector  for  his  ingenious  and  powerful  defence,  as  we  ap 
peared  before  the  cffended  group  at  the  door  of  the  cloak- 


RUTLED6-E.  285 

room.  Though  my  aunt  received  it  politely,  I  well  knew 
the  wrath  that  her  knit  brow  portended,  and  Josephine's 
look  of  contempt  was  unmistakable.  Mr.  Rutledge  had  his 
visor  down ;  no  earthly  intelligence  could  discover  any 
thing  of  his  emotions  through  that  impassive  exterior. 
Even  the  captain  was  irritated  ;  Phil  was  neutral,  but  Vic 
tor  was  my  only  friend. 

"  Good  night,"  he  whispered,  as  he  put  me  into  the  car 
riage.  "  We'll  finish  that  redowa  at  Mrs.  Humphrey's 
to-morrow  night." 

I  wished,  with  all  my  heart,  it  was  to-morrow  night,  and 
all  that  I  foresaw  must  intervene,  safely  past.  The  scolding 
was  not  to  come  before  morning,  I  saw  at  once,  and  when 
my  aunt,  on  our  arrival  at  home,  dismissed  me  to  my  room, 
it  was  with  a  cold,  "  I  wish  to  have  a  few  minutes'  conver 
sation  with  you  after  breakfast  to-morrow." 

"With  that  dread  before  me — with  a  guilty  sense  of  wrong 
doing,  and  a  bitter  sense  of  shame,  a  humbled  condemna 
tion  of  myself,  and  an  angry  resentment  toward  others,  the 
restless  hours  of  that  night  offered  anything  btt  repcee,  any 
thing  but  pleasant  retrospect  or  anticipation. 


CHAPTER  XXH. 

•*  And  if  some  tones  be  false  or  low, 

What  are  all  prayers  beneath 
But  cries  of  babes,  tliat  cannot  know 
Half  the  deep  thought  they  breathe  ?'; 

KBBLB. 

MKS.  CHURCHILL  understood,  if  ever  any  did,  tie  art  of 
reprimand.  Without  the  least  appearance  of  agitation  her« 
self,  with  a  perfectly  unmoved  and  stony  composure,  she 
managed  to  overawe  and  disarm  the  prisoner  at  the  bar, 
whatever  might  be  his  or  her  offence,  or  shade  or  degree 
of  guilt.  Defence  died  on  my  lips  at  the  dreaded  interview, 
and  I  bore  my  sentence  in  silence,  which  was,  a  total  seclu 
sion  from  society  after  to-night — a  return  to  the  oblivion  of 
the  nursery  and  study.  This  ball  at  Mrs.  Humphrey's  was 
to  be  my  last  appearance  in  public  till  I  should  have  learned 
how  to  behave  myself.  As  I  had  accepted,  it  was  proper 
I  should  go  to-night,  otherwise  she  would  by  no  means  have 
allowed  it. 

"  Nous  verrons,"  I  said  to  myself,  as  I  went  upstairs. 
"  If  I  continue  to  want  to  go  to  parties,  no  doubt  she  will 
have  to  let  me  go.  I  am  a  fraction  too  old  to  be  put  in  a 
dark  closet,  or  sent  to  bed  for  being  naughty,  and  Aiint 
Edith  knows  it." 

That  "Wednesday  was  a  very  busy  day  to  Mrs.  Churchill 
and  Josephine.  A  wedding  reception  took  up  the  morning, 
from  which  they  returned  but  to  dress  for  a  dinner  at  the 
"Wynkars,  and  thence  returning,  made  a  hurried  toilette  for 
the  ball.  It  seemed  making  rather  a  toil  of  pleasure,  if  one 
might  judge  from  my  aunt's  haggard  looks,  and  Josephine's 
impatient  complaints. 


RUTLEDGE. 

There  was  an  anxious  contraction  on  Mrs.  Churchill's 
brow  as  she  came  down  from  the  nursery  after  breakfast, 
and  apparently  a  struggle  in  her  mind  between  home  duties 
and  social  duties,  when  it  became  necessary  for  her  to  de 
cide  about  going  out.  That  she  sincerely  believed  in  the 
stringent  nature  of  both,  no  one  could  doubt  who  watched 
her  closely.  It  was  not  pleasure  that  took  her  away  from 
little  Essie  that  morning ;  it  was  a  mistaken  sense  of  duty. 
She  had  set  up  for  her  worship  an  idol,  in  whose  hard  ser 
vice  she  had  unconsciously  come  to  sacrifice  time,  ease,  and 
affection,  as  stoically  as  many  have  suffered  in  a  cause 
whose  reward  is  not  altogether  seen  and  ended  in  this 
world. 

So  it  was,  that,  trying  t^  make  up  for  her  absence  by 
many  injunctions  and  cauuons  to  those  left  in  charge,  she 
turned  her  back  upon  the  child  for  the  greater  part  of  the 
day. 

"  I  hoped,"  said  she,  as  she  paused  at  the  nursery  door, 
in  her  rustling  silk  and  heavy  India  shawl,  "  I  hoped  that 
the  doctor  would  have  come  before  I  went  out,  but  I  really 
do  not  see  but  what  you  can  do.  as  well  as  I  can,  Felicie. 
Pay  particular  attention  to  his  directions,  and  send  John 
out  immediately  for  any  prescription  he  may  leave  for  her. 
And  be  sure  you  tell  him  just  how  she  was  yesterday,  and 
how  well  she  slept  last  night.  I  don't  like,"  she  continued, 
taking  off  one  glove  to  feel  again  of  the  child's  hot  forehead, 
"  her  having  fever  again  this  morning.  I  thought  yester 
day  she  was  so  much  better," 

"  Oh,  madam  is  too  anxious.  It  is  nothing  but  a  little 
excitement  that  has  brought  it  on  again,"  said  the  nurse. 
"If  madam  would  tell  Mademoiselle  Esther  how  very 
naughty  it  is  for  her  to  cry  to  go  into  her  cousin's  room, 
and  fret  and  strike  me  when  I  try  to  keep  her  quiet,  per 
haps  she  might  mind  better.  It  is  that  that  brings  her  fevej 
on,  madam,  I  am  afraid." 

"  Now,  Esther,"  said   her  mother,  with   authority,  "  I 


288  BUT  LEDGE. 

shall  have  to  punish  you  if  you  do  so  any  more.  I  shall  be 
very  atagry  if  you  do  not  mind  Felicie  to-day,  and  if  you 
hurt  or  strike  her,  remember  I  shall  punish  you  when  I 
eome  back — do  you  hear?" 

Esther  heard,  yes.  She  sat  bolt  upright  in  her  little  bed, 
and  looked  at  the  speaker  with  her  parched  lips  parted,  and 
a  strange,  bewildered  expression  in  her  eyes,  and  a  restless 
movement  of  her  tiny  hands.  Before  the  interview  was 
over,  however,  the  startled  look  had  settled  into  a  vacant, 
listless  stare  ;  and  a  peevish  moan,  after  her  mother  left  the 
room,  was  all  the  evidence  she  gave  of  being  impressed  or 
alarmed  by  the  injunctions  laid  upon  her.  I  heard  the 
miserable  little  complainer  unmoved  as  long  as  I  could, 
after  a  while,  putting  down  rny  book,  I  went  into  the 
nursery.  She  stretched  out  her  arms,  and  cried : 

"  Take  me  to  your  room." 

"  If  you  will  stop  crying,"  I  said,  taking  her  up  in  my 
arms,  and  wrapping  her  dressing-gown  about  her. 

Felicie  looked  up  quickly,  and  said,  "  Madame  a  dit 
que  non." 

Felicie  always  lied  in  her  native  tongue,  and  this  was 
but  an  additional  proof  to  me  that  madame  had  said  no 
such  thing,  and  I  told  her  so,  rather  strongly.  Grace 
came  in  just  then,  and  Felicie  appealed  to  her  for  confirma 
tion. 

"  Certainly,"  said  Grace,  promptly,  "  mamma's  last 
charge  was  that  Esther  should  not  go  out  of  the  nursery ; 
so,  missy,  you  may  just  make  yourself  easy  where  you  are. 
Don't  suppose  everybody  is  going  to  spoil  you  like  your 
precious  cousin  there." 

Essie  still  clung  tightly  round  my  neck ;  much,  however, 
as  my  pride  rebelled,  there  was  no  way  but  to  submit  to 
the  orders  they  promulged.  So,  carrying  her  back  to  the 
bed,  and  loosening  her  arms  from  my  neck,  I  put  her  down 
with, 

"  No  matter,  sweetheart ;  if  Mahomet  brings  his  work, 


R  C  T  L  E  D  G  E  . 

and  sits  down  by  the  mountain,  that  will  do  as  well,  will  it 
not  ?" 

"I  don't  know  wrhat  you  mean,"  said  the  child,  un 
easily. 

"  She  means  to  plague  you,  Esther ;  she's  been  scolded 
this  morning,  and  she's  in  bad  humor,"  said  Grace. 

"Don't  throw  stones,  Miss  Grace,"  I  retorted.  "  I 
wasn't  sent  away  from  the  table,  if  I  was  scolded." 

"  Mamma' 11  never  forget  your  performance  last  night,  the 
longest  day  she  lives,"  continued  Grace.  "  I  never  saw  her 
half  so  angry  before.  In  fact,  from  all  accounts,  you  must 
have  got  it  from  all  quarters,  but  what  Mr.  Rutledge  said 
was  the  worst." 

"  What  did  he  say,  pray  ?" 

"  Wouldn't  you  like  to  know  !"  she  cried,  in  her  teasing, 
school-girl  fashion. 

"  I  don't  believe  you  could  tell  me,  if  I  did." 

"  I  could  if  I  wanted  to,"  she  exclaimed.  "  I  heard 
mamma  and  Josephine  talking  it  over  this  morning.  The 
door  of  the  dressing-room  was  open  a  crack,  and  I 
heard  every  word.  Now,  honey,  don't  you  wish  I'd  tell 
you  ?" 

"  I  don't  want  to  hear  half  as  much  as  you  want  to  tell 
me,"  I  returned,  trying  to  be  unmoved. 

"  Oh !  don't  be  uneasy  on  my  account,"  she  said.  "  I 
haven't  the  least  idea  of  telling  you.  Only,  I  didn't  sup 
pose  Mr.  Rutledge  could  be  so  severe,  and  on  '  his  little 
friend,'  too !" 

"  That — for  Mr.  Rutledge  !"  I  exclaimed,  with  a  disdain 
ful  snap  of  my  fingers.  "  I  don't  care  the  fraction  of  a  pin 
for  his  opinion !" 

"  I'll  tell  him,"  cried  Grace,  with  delighted  eyes. 

"  Do,"  I  answered  ;  and  hiding  my  burning  face  on  the 
pillow  with  Esther,  I  said  : 

"What  shall  we  do  to  amuse  ourselves  this  morning, 
Essie  ?  Shall  I  tell  you  a  story  ?" 

13 


290  KUTLEDGJ:. 

"  Yes,"  said  Esther,  looking  pleased. 

"Ask  her  to  tell  you  about  the  ball  last  night,  and 
Mr.  Victor  Viennet,"  said  Grace,  as  she  went  out  of  the 
door. 

"  No,"  said  the  little  girl,  "  I'd  rather  have  her  tell  me 
about  the  little  dog  Tigre  at  Rutledge,  and  how  he  used  to 
stand  outside  of  her  door,  and  whine  to  come  in.  Won't 
you  now  ?" 

"  Oh,  that's  tiresome,  Essie,"  I  said,  "  I'll  tell  you  some 
thing  else." 

"  Then  tell  me  about  the  boys  that  stole  the  chestnuts, 
and  about  the  lake,  and  the  great  trees,  and  the  artemisias 
and  the  grapevines  in  the  garden.  Tell  me,  won't  you 
now?"  she  went  on,  coaxingly. 

"  You'd  rather  hear  a  fairy  story,  Esther,"  I  said ;  "  or 
something  out  of  your  pretty  Christmas  book,  I  am 
sure." 

"  No,"  said  Esther,  "  I  want  to  hear  about  the  country, 
I  wish  they'd  take  me  to  the  country,"  she  continued, 
wearily  ;  then,  raising  herself  on  her  elbow,  and  looking  at 
me  earnestly,  she  said,  "  do  you  believe  they  ever  will  ? 
Do  you  believe  I'll  be  made  to  always  stay  in  this  nursery, 
without  any  flowers  or  birds,  or  anything  I  like  ?  If  I 
should  die  in  it,  would  I  stay  in  it  always,  or  would  they 
take  me  out  ?  Tell  me,  would  they  ?" 

"  Of  course,  Essie,"  I  said,  half  impatiently,  uncomfort 
able  under  her  earnest  eyes.  "  I  do  not  like  to  hear 
you  talk  so.  You  know,  I've  told  you  often,  that  there's  a 
home  for  us  where  we  shall  go  after  we  die,  better  than 
any  home  here,  where  good  children  are,  and  holy  men  and 
women  ;  and  it's  all  a  great  deal  brighter  and  happier  than 
anything  we  can  imagine;  so  don't  trouble  yourself  to  think 
about  it ;  only  be  good." 

"  But  I  am  not  good,"  she  said,  with  a  sort  of  agony  in 
her  voice  ;  "  you  know  I  am  not." 

"Essie,"   I   said,  soothingly,  drawing  her  toward   me. 


RUTLEDGE.  291 

"  nobody  is  good.  I  am  not,  and  you  are  not,  and  nobody 
18 ;  but  if  we  are  sorry  when  we're  wrong,  and  ask  God  to 
forgive  us,  and  help  us,  He  will,  you  may  be  sure.  Why, 
Essie,  He  loves  you,  little  foolish  girl  as  you  are,  more  than 
you  can  possibly  tell.  He  loves  you,  and  he  would  not  let 
you  perish  for  anything." 

"  Are  you  sure  of  that  ?"  she  said,  eagerly. 

"  Perfectly  sure,"  I  answered. 

"  Madame  ordered,"  said  Felicie,  "  that  Miss  Esther 
should  be  kept  perfectly  quiet.  She's  talking  too  much, 
and  exciting  herself.  It  would  be  better  to  have  the  room 
darkened,  and  let  her  go  to  sleep." 

"  I  can't  go  to  sleep,  and  she  shan't  go  away,"  exclaimed 
the  child. 

"I  haven't  the  least  idea  of  going,  Essie;  so  lie  down,  and 
I'll  tell  you  about  the  country." 

And,  till  my  own  heart  ached  as  hers  did,  in  its  narrow 
city  bounds,  I  told  her  of  the  country,  and  how  soon  the 
first  warm  spring  days  would  loose  the  ice-bound  brooks, 
and  let  the  pines  see  themselves  once  more  in  the  lake. 
And  in  the  lots,  the  violets  would  be  springing  up  thickly 
in  the  moist  sod,  and  the  faint  green  would  be  coloring  the 
meadows  and  lawns,  and  the  skies  would  be  soft  and  bluer 
and  the  slow,  warm  wind,  would  waft  along  the  fleecy 
clouds,  and  stir  the  budding  trees,  and  linger  over  the  soft, 
wet  earth,  and  creep  into  cold  and  wintry  houses,  and  into 
cold  and  wintry  hearts,  and  stir  all  things  with  a  sense  of 
warmth  and  ecstasy. 

Throughout  the  day  I  hardly  left  my  little  cousin ;  she 
was  feverish  and  restless,  and  never  closed  her  eyes  or  rested 
a  moment.  About  four  o'clock,  however,  I  went  down  to 
practise  for  an  hour,  and  when  I  came  upstairs  again,  she 
had  fallen  asleep.  Her  mother,  coming  up  at  the  same 
time,  was  much  relieved  to  find  her  sleeping,  and  Felicie 
gave  a  very  satisfactory  account  of  her ;  so  that  she  dressed 
for  the  dinner  in  comparative  comfort.  The  doctor's  vis.il 


RUTLKDGE. 

had  occurred  while  I  was  downstairs,  and  had  been  a  very 
hurried  one.  Grace  and  I  dined  alone,  very  sociably  and 
cheerfully,  Grace  reading  a  French  novel,  and  I  "  the  New- 
comes,"  in  all  the  pauses  of  the  meal. 

I  went  upstairs  as  soon  as  it  was  over,  and  found  Esther 
still  asleep.  It  was  a  wet,  miserable  evening.  The  rain 
was  dripping  slowly  and  heavily  from  the  roof  to  the 
window-sill,  and  from  the  window-sill  to  the  piazza  below. 
A  thick,  suffocating  fog,  possessed  the  earth,  through 
which  the  distant  lights  blinked  drearily ;  even  the  noises 
of  the  streets  sounded  muffled  and  subdued.  It  was  so 
warm,  that  the  low  soft-coal  fire  in  the  grate  seemed  oppres 
sive  ;  yet,  when  I  opened  the  window,  there  was  a  damp, 
choking  heaviness  in  the  air  that  was  worse,  even,  than  the 
dry  heat  of  the  room.  It  seemed  as  if  the  spirit  of  the  fog 
was  sitting  a  night-mare  on  my  breast,  and  pressing  down 
with  a  hand  like  lead  the  beating  of  my  heart,  and  stopping 
my  very  breath.  There  was  no  shaking  off  the  weight,  nor 
driving  away  the  gloomy  fancies  that  the  hour  bred.  It 
was  in  vain,  that  I  lit  the  gas,  and  closed  the  blinds,  and 
laying  my  ball-dress  on  the  bed,  tried  to  interest  myself  in 
my  preparations  for  the  evening.  Between  me  and  ah1  plea 
sant  anticipation,  there  hung  a  black  pall  of  presentiment, 
and  no  effort  of  my  will  could  put  it  aside.  The  very 
struggle  to  free  myself  from  it,  seemed  to  make  the  gloom 
close  thicker  around  me.  The  house  was  so  still ;  the  ser 
vants  were  all  downstairs ;  the  ticking  of  the  clock  on  the 
nursery  mantelpiece  was  ah1  the  sound  that  broke  the  still 
ness,  and  that,  so  regular,  so  monotonous,  was  worse  than 
silence.  It  was  a  time 

"  For  thought  to  do  her  part," 

for  conscience  and  reason  to  be  heard.  Should  I  go  into 
the  world  and  try  to  forget  it  ?  Should  I  leave  the  little 
helpless  child  asleep  there,  in  charge  of  a  woman  I  distrusted 


R  U  T  L  E  D  G  E  .  293 

and  disliked,  aud  go  where  music  and  pleasure  would  drown 
the  dread  for  her  that  was  gnawing  at  my  heart  ?  What, 
that  was  good  for  hours  of  trial,  had  I  learned  in  my  short 
experience  of  pleasure  ?  What,  that  I  could  remember 
with  satisfaction,  had  occurred  in  the  two  nights  of  gaiety 
that  I  had  just  passed  through  ?  What,  in  the  flatteries  of 
Victor  Viennet,  in  the  admiring  eyes  of  strangers,  in  the 
envy  of  my  cousin,  that  I  could  dare  to  remember  in 
church — on  Sunday — under  a  quiet  evening  sky — or  on  a 
fresh,  pure  early  summer  morning  ?  Alas !  it  was  out  of 
tune  with  all  of  these ;  there  was  utterly  a  fault  about  it — it 
turned  to  ashes  as  I  grasped  it.  It  was  not  true  pleasure. 
It  was  not  a  worthy  pursuit.  As  far  as  I  had  followed  it 
already,  it  had  led  me  into  sin,  into  pride,  insincerity  and 
anger.  It  had  done  me  no  good.  I  felt  that.  Had  I  the 
courage  to  put  it  away  from  me  now  ?  Could  I  say,  with 
out  an  eifort,  I  will  keep  myself  out  of  the  way  of  seeing 
Victor  Viennet  again  ?  I  will  never  remember  but  to  con 
demn  the  hours  that  I  have  spent  with  him  ?  Could  I 
return  to  the  dull  routine  I  had  formerly  marked  out  for 
myself,  without  an  eifort  that  would  cost  me  many  tears  ? 
But  if  I  could  not  do  this,  what  was  my  religion  worth? 
If  this  self-denial  was  so  hard,  did  it  not  prove  that 
the  world  had  got  a  very  tight  hold  of  my  heart,  and 
that  the  sooner  I  wrenched  myself  from  its  grasp  the 
better  ? 

On  the  other  hand,  there  was  no  definite  reason  why  I 
should  not  go,  there  was  only  this  vague  feeling  of  uneasi 
ness  about  Essie  that  tormented  me  and  kept  me  back,  and 
this  unsettled  question  about  the  profitableness  of  going  into 
the  world.  How  should  I  decide  ?  My  aifection  for  my 
little  cousin  tugged  strongly  at  my  heart.  Pride  and  incli 
nation  pulled  as  fiercely  the  other  way.  A  feeling  that  I  did 
not  give  a  name  to,  but  which  was  stronger  than  either, 
prompted  me  to  follow  rny  own  desires,  and  leave  Essie  to 
her  fate.  What  business  was  it  of  mine  9  If  other  peopla 


294  K  TT  T  L  E  D  G~E  . 

neglected  their  children,  and  left  their  duties  for  their  plea 
sures,  why  need  I  concern  myself?  Why  need  I  take  upon 
myself  their  discarded  responsibilities  ? 

At  last  I  stole  on  tiptoe  to  the  bed  again,  to  see  if  she 
still  slept.  Not  much  sleep  in  those  frightened  eyes. 

"  Why  !  Essie,  my  pet,  when  did  you  wake  up  ?" 

With  a  sigh  of  relief,  and  a  little  relaxing  of  the  look  of 
terror,  she  raised  herself  up,  and  saying  hurriedly,  "  how 
still  it  is !  I  thought  you  had  gone  away,"  she  twined  both 
small  hands  tightly  round  my  wrist. 

"  Oh,  no  !"  I  said,  sitting  down  by  her,  "  it  isn't  time  yet, 
I  shall  not  go  for  an  hour  or  two." 

"  Don't  go  at  all,  please  don't  go,"  whispered  the  child, 
panting  for  breath,  and  clinging  to  me  in  an  agony.  "  If 
you  knew  how  awful  it  was  to  be  alone,  and  how  still  the 
room  was,  you  wouldn't  leave  me,  indeed  you  wouldn't. 
Besides,"  she  went  on  hurriedly,  "  how  can  you  tell  what'll 
become  of  me  while  you're  gone  ?  Nobody  else  loves 
me,  nobody  else  is  good  to  me.  I  am  troublesome  and 
wicked — only  God  and  you  care  anything  about  me." 

It  was  useless  to  soothe  or  reason  with  her  now.  I  knew 
little  of  illness,  but  I  saw  in  a  moment  that  the  wild  delirium 
of  fever  was  burning  in  my  little  companion's  veins,  and 
raging  in  her  brain.  I  was  frightened  at  the  strength  of 
the  little  hands  that  fastened  themselves  on  mine,  and  the 
hurry  and  wildness  of  the  broken  sentences  she  uttered. 
All  I  could  do,  was  to  promise  that  I  would  not  go,  and 
assure  her  that  there  were  no  "  ugly  shadows "  on  the 
wall — that  nobody  was  coming  to  take  her  away — that  it 
was  all  because  her  head  ached  so.  But  when  Felicie 
appeared,  it  was  a  less  easy  matter  to  control  her.  She 
screamed,  and  hid  her  face,  and  cried  to  me  to  send  her 
away — she  hated  her — she  gave  her  horrid  stufi' — she  made 
her  angry,  and  a  thousand  other  vehement  exclamations  in 
alternate  French  and  English.  The  nurse,  with  a  subdued 
glare  of  anger  in  her  eyes,  would  fain  have  soothed  her,  for 


BUI  LEDGE.  295 

«er  voice,  shrill  with  the  strength  offerer,  could  easily  have 
been  heard  downstairs,  and  Mrs.  Churchill  had  come  home 
and  was  now  in  her  dressing-room.  My  alarm  had  over 
come  my  pride  by  this  time,  and  loosing  my  hands  from  the 
child's  grasp,  I  gave  her  into  Felicie's  charge,  and  ran  down 
stairs. 

The  door  of  the  dressing-room  was  locked,  and  it  was 
some  minutes  before  I  was  admitted,  and  during  those 
minutes,  my  alarm  had  time  to  cool,  and  when  at  last 
I  entered  the  room,  it  was  with  a  full  recollection  of 
the  last  rebuff  Iliad  received  when  I  pleaded  Esther's  cause, 
and  a  cold  determination  to  do  my  duty  and  no  more. 

"  Why  are  you  not  dressed,  if  you  intend  accompanying 
us  ?"  she  said. 

"  I  do  not  intend  going  this  evening,"  I  answered ;  "  and 
I  came,  Aunt  Edith,  to  say  that  I  think  you  had  better  see 
Esther  before  you  go  out ;  she  has  a  great  deal  of  fever,  and 
is  veiy  much  excited." 

I  never  before  had  realized  how  dangerous  a  thing  it 
was  to  touch  with  even  the  daintiest  hand,  the  festering 
wound  that  both  pride  and  remorse  conspire  to  hide  from 
the  sight  even  of  the  sufferer's  self.  I  could  not  have  done 
anything  worse  for  poor  Essie's  cause,  than  just  what  I  did 
do,  and  she  shared  with  me  in  the  feeling  of  vexation 
and  resentment  that  my  words  awakened  in  her  mother's 
breast. 

I  soon  forgot  the  severity  of  the  rebuff  I  had  received, 
however,  when  coming  into  the  nursery,  I  took  the  strug 
gling  child  from  Felicie,  and  watched  with  anxiety  the 
gradual  subsiding  of  the  fit  of  passion  that  had  convulsed 
her.  From  whatever  cause  it  might  be,  she  was  evidently 
growing  quieter,  and  in  less  than  half  an  hour,  the  little 
head  on  my  arm  had  relaxed  its  tossings,  and  sunk  into 
repose,  while  a  dreamy  languor  dulled  the  wildness  of  hei 
eyes,  and  save  when  the  slightest  movement  woke  an 
alarm  that  I  would  leave  her  she  by  quite  motionless. 


296  RUT  LEDGE. 

"  She  is  better  now,"  said  Felicie,  in  a  low  tone,  who  wa« 
watching  her  with  her  basilisk  eyes  as  she  lay  apparently 
sleeping.  A  nervous  tightening  of  the  slight  fingers  on  my 
wrist  at  the  sound  of  her  voice,  showed  me  that  it  was  only 
apparently. 

When  Mrs.  Churchill  had  completed  her  toilette,  sho 
came  upstairs.  Esther,  with  her  long  eyelashes  sweeping 
her  crimsoned  cheeks,  lay  so  quiet  that  there  seemed  some 
reason  in  her  mother's  cutting  rebuke  for  the  unnecessary 
alarm  I  had  given  her.  I  began  to  feel  heartily  ashamed  of 
it  myself,  and  wondered  that  I  had  been  so  easily  fright 
ened.  Felicie,  with  a  wicked  look  of  exultation,  said,  that 
if  Miss  Esther  hadn't  been  in  a  passion,  she  wouldn't  have 
brought  the  fever  on  again.  She  had  been  better  all  clay, 
the  doctor  had  said  she  had  scarcely  any  fever,  when  he 
was  here. 

Mrs.  Churchill  hoped,  with  a  withering  look,  that  I  would 
get  used  to  ill  temper  in  time,  and  not  think  it  necessary  to 
disturb  the  household  whenever  Esther  had  a  fit  of  crying. 
Then  feeling  the  child's  pulse,  and  giving  many  and  minute 
directions  for  the  care  of  her  during  the  night,  she  went 
away.  As,  a  moment  after,  the  hall  door  closed  with  a 
heavy  sound,  a  momentary  tremor  passed  over  the  child's 
frame,  and  opening  her  eyes,  a  strange  light  fluttered  for 
an  instant  in  them,  as  she  murmured,  "you  will  not  go 
away  ?"  then  closed  them  again,  and  she  seemed  to  sleep. 
I  watched  beside  her  for  an  hour ;  then  releasing  myself 
from  her  unresisting  hands,  and  kissing  her  lightly,  I  went 
into  my  own  room. 

I  returned  several  times  to  look  at  her  again,  before  I  put 
the  light  out  and  lay  down  to  sleep.  How  many  times  the 
monotonous  nursery-clock  struck  the  half  hour  before  I 
slept,  I  cannot  tell ;  the  heavy  air  was  broken  by  no  other 
sound  ;  there  was  nothing  in  the  silent  house,  shrouded  by 
the  close  fog  without  and  the  dead  silence  within,  to  keep 
me  awake,  yet  it  was  long  before  I  slept.  But  sleep,  when 


K  U  T  L  IS  D  G  E  .  297 

it  came,  was  heavy  and  dreamless — a  sort  of  dull  stifling  of 
consciousness,  in  keeping  with  the  night. 

Hours  of  this  sleep  had  passed  over  me,  when  a  fierce 
grasp  upon  my  arm,  and  a  hissing  voice  in  my  ear,  woke  me 
with  a  terrified  start,  and  chilled  me  with  horror,  as  strug 
gling  to  collect  my  senses,  I  tried  to  comprehend  Felicie's 
frantic  words.  In  a  moment,  they  made  their  way  to  my 
brain,  and  burned  themselves  there. 

"  I've  given  her  too  much — I  cannot  wake  her !  O  mon 
Dieu  !  Je  I'ai  tuee  !  Je  I'ai  tuee  /" 

A  horrible  sickening  faintness  for  an  instant  rushed  over 
me,  then  a  keen  sense  of  agony  like  an  electric  flash  thrilled 
through  me,  and  without  a  look,  a  thought,  a  word,  I  was 
kneeling  at  the  little  bed  in  the  nursery.  But,  as  my  eager 
eyes  searched  the  whitened  face  on  the  pillow  there,  and  as 
my  aching  ears  1-istened  for  the  almost  inaudible  breathing, 
and  my  hand  touched  the  cold  arms  that  lay  outside  the 
covers,  such  a  cry  burst  from  my  lips  as  might  have  waked 
the  dead,  if  dead  were  indeed  before  me.  But  there  waa 
no  voice  nor  answer  ;  there  was  an  awful  stillness  when  I 
listened  for  response ;  when  I  raised  my  eyes  in  wild  appeal 
from  the  white  face  of  the  child,  there  was  but  a  horrible 
face  above  me,  whereon  was  all  the  pallor  of  death,  without 
its  calm  repose ;  such  a  face  as  the  lost  and  damned  may- 
wear  when  their  sentence  is  new  in  their  ears — when 
endless  perdition  is  but  just  begun,  and  life  and  hope  but 
just  cut  off. 

Another  moment,  and  all  the  house  was  roused.  Putting 
back,  with  one  strong  effort,  the  agony  and  hopelessness 
that  welled  up  from  my  heart,  I  mastered  myself  enough  to 
direqt  the  terrified  and  helpless  servants.  Dispatching  dif 
ferent  ones  to  the  nearest  doctors  I  could  think  of,  another 
for  my  aunt,  another  for  all  the  restoratives  that  occurred 
to  me,  the  next  few  minutes  of  suspense  passed. 

But  before  the  doctor  could  arrive,  I  knew  there  was  no 
oeed  of  his  coming.  There  had  been  a  little  flutter  of  fche 


298  RUTLEDGE. 

drooping  eyelid,  ever  so  slight  a  quiver  of  the  parted  lip, 
and  bending  down,  I  had  listened,  with  agonized  suspense, 
for  the  low  breathing,  and  called  her  name  with  the  tender 
ness  that  never  finds  perfect  expression  till  death  warns  us 
it  shall  be  the  last.  Then  a  little  arm  crept  round  my  neck, 
the  soft  eye  opened  for  a  moment,  a  sigh  stirred  the  bosom 
that  my  forehead  touched,  and,  as  the  arm  relaxed  its  faint 
clasp,  I  knew  that  Essie  was  a  stranger  and  an  alien  no 
longer,  but  was  where  it  were  better  for  us  all  to  be — where 
there  is  peace,  eternal,  unbroken,  beyond  the  reach  of  sin 
forever. 

For  those  first  moments,  when  I  knelt  alone  beside  the 
little  bed,  with  the  soft  arm  still  round  my  neck,  and  the 
breath  of  that  sigh  still  on  the  air,  there  was  no  feeling  that 
I  had  suffered  a  bereavement,  that  death  and  sorrow  had 
entered  the  house ;  but  holy  thoughts  of  God  and  heaven — 
strange  longings  for  the  rest  that  she  had  entered  into — a 
sort  of  hushed  and  hallowed  awe,  as  if  the  new  angel  still 
lingered,  with  a  half  regret  at  leaving  me  alone — as  if  the 
parting,  if  parting  there  were  to  be,  were  but  for  a  "  little 
while  " — as  if  the  communion  of  saints  were  so  divine  and 
comfortable  a  thing,  that  there  was  no  need  for  teai's  and 
sorrow. 

But  when  there  came  a  sudden  tumult  below,  hurried 
steps  upon  the  stairs,  a  sound  beside  me,  a  pause,  and  then 
a  cry  that  made  my  blood  freeze  in  my  veins,  I  knew  that 
there  was  more  than  joy  in  heaven — that  there  was  bitter 
agony  on  earth :  that  there  was  more  than  an  angel  won 
above — that  there  was  a  child  dead  below — a  household  in 
mourning — a  mother's  heart  writhing  in  torture — a  judg 
ment  fallen — a  punishment  following  close  upon  a  sin — a 
remorse  begun  that  no  time  could  heal,  that  no  other  life 
could  quench,  no  other  love  allay. 


CHAPTER   XXIII. 

"Back,  then,  complainer;  loathe  thy  life  no  more, 
Nor  deem  thyself  upon  a  desert  shore, 
Because  the  rocks  the  nearer  prospect  close." 

KEBLE. 

FELICIE  had  fled.  When,  in  the  agonized  confusion  of 
that  dreadful  night,  she  was  at  last  remembered  and 
searched  for,  there  was  no  trace  of  her  to  be  found,  and  all 
future  inquiry  was  equally  unavailing.  The  wretched  wo 
man  need  not  have  concealed  herself  with  such  desperate 
fear  ;  no  one  felt  any  heart  to  search  her  out,  or  revenge  on 
her  the  death  of  her  little  charge.  No  one  ol  that  sad 
household  but  knew,  in  their  hearts,  that  there  was  a  sin  at 
more  than  her  door — a  sin  that  lay  heavy  in  proportion  to 
its  unnaturalness  and  strangeness. 

Those  were  wretched  nights  and  days  that  followed  little 
Esther's  death.  The  vehement  grief  that,  in  the  first  hours 
of  amazement  and  remorse,  had  burst  from  the  miserable 
mother,  was  succeeded  by  a  calm  more  unnatural  and  more 
alarming.  My  heart  ached  for  the  misery  that  showed 
itself  but  too  plainly  in  her  haggard  face  and  restless  eyes ; 
but,  shutting  herself  up  in  her  cold  and  speechless  wretch 
edness,  from  all  sympathy,  I  longed,  but  did  not  dare,  to 
offer  any.  And  I,  perhaps  more  than  any  other,  involun 
tarily  recalled  the  phantom  she  was  trying  to  fly,  the  re 
morse  that  she  was  struggling  to  subdue.  Though  her 
self-control,  even  then,  was  almost  perfect,  I  could  see  that 
she  never  looked  at  me  unmoved — that  she  winced  at  any 
attention  from  me,  as  if  a  newly  bleeding  wound  had  been 
roughly  handled,  and  shrunk  more  than  "ever  into  herself. 
She  refused  all  visitors,  even  the  most  intimate.  Josephine 


300  E  U  T  L  E  I)  G  E  . 

was  the  only  ono  of  the  family  whose  presence  did  not  seem 
to  pain  her,  and  at  times  even  she  was  sent  away.  She  was, 
too  strong  and  proud  a  woman  not  to  bear  her  sorrow,  n& 
she  bore  all  other  emotions,  alone.  Not  even  Josephine 
saw  any  further  into  her  heart  than  strangers  did. 

With  the  resumption  of  the  ordinary  household  ways, 
came  the  cold  insincerity  that  custom  sanctions,  of  banishing 
from  familiar  mention  the  name  that,  a  month  ago,  had  been 
a  household  word,  now  recurring  hourly  to  the  lips,  but 
hourly  to  be  hushed  and  sent  back  to  deal  another  pang  to 
the  aching  heart.  No  more  illusion  was  made  to  Essie 
than  if,  a  few  short  weeks  ago,  she  had  not  been  one  ol 
this  small  circle,  the  youngest,  and  "  the  child,"  who,  wel 
come  or  unwelcome,  had  necessarily,  and  by  virtue  of  her 
position,  claimed  some  part  of  the  time  and  notice  of  those 
around  her. 

It  was  impossible  to  define  how  much  of  the  subdued 
apathy  of  Grace's  manner  was  owing  to  the  grief  she  felt  at 
her  sister's  loss,  and  how  much  to  a  sort  of  cowardly  ner 
vousness  and  shrinking  from  the  idea  of  death.  For  days 
after  the  shock,  she  was  like  my  shadow,  dreading,  evidently 
more  than  anything  else,  to  be  left  alone,  shunning  her 
mother  and  everything  that  brought  the  hateful  subject  to 
her  thoughts,  trying,  with  all  ingenuity,  to  divert  herself 
and  think  of  other  things.  It  was  useless  to  attempt  to 
lead  her  higher,  to  make  her  see  in  her  little  sister's  death 
anything  but  dread  and  horror.  She  shrunk  from  all  men 
tion  of  it  with  aversion,  and  turned  eagerly  to  any  diverting 
subject,  and  before  any  other  member  of  the  family,  she 
shook  off  the  depression  it  had  caused.  With  Josephine  it 
had  been  different.  At  first  she  was  awe-struck  and 
stunned,  and  for  a  while  there  seemed  a  danger  of  her  fall 
ing  into  a  morbid  state  of  feeling ;  but  as  the  freshness  of  the 
shock  wore  away,  her  elasticity  returned,  and  with  it  the 
old  Impatience  and  imperiousness,  that  the  absence  of 
amusement  and  excitement  only  heightened. 


BUI  LEDGE.  301 

A  storm  indeed  had  passed  over  our  hcuse,  but  a  storm 
that  had  not  purified  and  cleared  the  atmosphere,  only  left 
it  more  dose  and  sultry  than  before ;  the  black  sky  indeed, 
had  brightened  again,  leaving  comparative  sunshine  over 
head,  but  threatening  clouds  still  lingered  around  the  hori 
zon,  and  distant  rumbling  still  warned  of  danger. 

I  missed  more  than  I  had  fancied  possible,  my  little  com 
panion  and  pupil.  No  hour  in  the  day  but  brought  some 
fresh  souvenir  of  the  tortured  young  life  that  had  ended  its 
penance  so  early,  the  shrinking  little  soul  that  had  been 
released  so  soon.  It  was  not  seldom,  in  those  dark  days, 
that  I  thought,  with  something  like  envy,  of  the  peace  she 
had  inherited,  and  with  something  like  repining  of  my 
lonely  lot.  How  many  years  of  warfare  might  stretch 
between  me  and  the  end ;  how  many  chances  that  I  might 
fail  or  faint,  grow  weary,  or  yield  to  sin ;  while  the  little 
child  I  had  so  long  looked  upon  with  pity,  so  long  tried  to 
help  and  guide,  now  redeemed  and  safe,  and  everlastingly 
at  peace,  had  passed  "  the  golden  portals  of  the  City  of  the 
Blest."  Good  angels  had  pitied  her,  struggling  and  bewil 
dered  on  her  way,  and  lifting  her  in  their  arms,  had  carried 
her  home  ;  floating  through  the  blue  ether,  in  a  moment  oi 
time  she  had  passed  the  rough  and  weary  road  that  would 
have  taken  a  lifetime  to  have  traversed  alone.  But  no 
angels,  it  seemed  to  me,  looked  on  my  weary  path ;  no 
sympathy,  from  heaven  or  of  men,  came  to  help  me  as  I 
pressed  on  alone.  Parting  and  death,  repentance  and  self- 
accusation  made  that  Lent  a  time  of  heartfelt  sorrow ;  and 
before  Easter-week  was  over,  the  low  fever  that  had  been 
hanging  about  me  since  the  spring  began,  accomplished  its 
errand,  and  laid  me  on  a  tedious  bed  of  sickness. 

Is  there  any  one  who  has  ever  been  sick  "  away  from 
home,"  among  strangers,  courteous  and  attentive,  perhaps, 
but  whose  courtesy  and  attention  were  of  duty,  not  love, 
that  cannot  understand  what  it  was  to  be  lying,  day  after 
day,  in  a  "  home  "  like  mine,  knowing  it  was  the  only  on« 


302  KUT  LEDGE. 

I  had  a  right  to,  or  a  hope  of,  this  side  heaven,  and  know 
ing,  through  all  the  exaggerating  excitement  *f  fever,  and 
the  languid  hopelessness  of  slow  convalescence,  that  in  it 
there  was  no  one  to  whom  the  care  of  me  was  not  a 
penance,  that  no  hour  was  so  grudged  as  that  spent  by  my 
bedside  ?  Cold  faces  met  me  when  I  waked  from  my  fever 
ish,  troubled  sleep,  commonplace,  unsympathetic  voices 
fell  upon  my  ear,  when,  unnerved  and  childish,  I  longed 
for  nothing  so  much  as  for  a  kind  word  or  a  caressing 
touch.  ^ 

They  were  very  attentive ;  I  had  every  care  ;  my  reco 
very  was  as  rapid  as  the  doctor  wished ;  i^  had  not  been  a 
very  alarming  illness  ;  nobody  was  particularly  excited 
about  it.  They  paid  it  was  a  "  light  case,"  and  I  could  not 
be  doing  better.  They  had  a  right  to  know,  certainly; 
but  oh !  the  weariness  of  that  dark  room,  the  length*  of 
those  spring  days,  the  stillness  of  those  warm  nights, 
the  loathing  of  those  city  sounds,  the  longing  for  the 
country ! 

June  was  now  not  many  weeks  off;  and  hour  after  hour, 
the  question,  "  would  Mr.  Rutledge  remember  his  pro 
mise  ?"  perplexed  my  brain.  I  knew  I  had  done  enough 
to  have  forfeited  it ;  I  knew  it  had  been  made  hastily ; 
that,  indescribably  and  unaccountably,  he  was  changed 
since  then,  and  we  had  ceased  to  be  anything  like  friends. 
Still,  I  was  nearly  certain  he  would  keep  his  word ;  what 
ever  else  he  might  forget,  he  would  not  forget  that.  No 
matter  if  it  bored  him,  as  I  almost  knew  it  would,  I  was 
sure  he  would  do  it  just  the  same.  Though  I  had  a  thou 
sand  fears  that  I  should  not  be  allowed  to  go,  I  knew  I 
should  be  sent  for,  and  I  was  not  disappointed 

It  was  the  first  morning  that  I  had  breakfasted  down 
stairs  ;  I  had  been  well  enough  for  a  week,  but  a  languor 
and  indifference  possessed  me  that  made  me  averse  to  all 
thought  of  change  or  exertion.  Now,  however,  that  I  was 
actually  in  the  oool  dining-room,  where  white  curtain* 


RlTTLEDGE.  303 

replaced  the  heavy  winter  drapery  of  the  windows,  and 
white  matting  the^thick  carpet,  I  wondered  that  I  had  not 
made  the  effort  before.  It  was  vastly  more  attractive  than 
my  own  room,  certainly;  and  the  parlors,  as  I  glanced- into 
them,  looked  in  comparison,  almost  imposing  in  their  vast- 
ness.  The  world,  I  saw,  had  been  creeping  in  again. 
There  were  notes  and  cards  on  the  table,  and-  a  lovely 
basket  of  violets  [  the  piano  was. open,  and  some  new  music 
lay  on  it.  Josephine,  too,  at  breakfast,  talked  of  driyes 
and  engagements  that  showed,  the  days  of  mourning  were 
over.  There  was  little  difference  in  my  aunt's  manner 
from  formerly,  but  she  looked  ten  years  older,  and  waft 
somewhat  colder  and  more  precise. 

"  Who  on  earth  can  that  be  from  ?"  Grace  exclaimed, 
as  John  brought  in  the  letters,  and  Mrs.  Churchill  took  up 
the  only  one  that  did  not  look  like  an  invitation  or  a  mil 
liner's  circular.  "  It's  from  out  of  town,"  she  continued, 
reaching  out  her  hand  for  the  envelope,  as  her  mother  laid 
it  down.  "It's  postmarked  Rutledge!  What  can  Mr. 
Rutledge  have  to  say  to  mamma  ?  Joseph,  doesn't  your 
heart  beat  ?» 

If  Joseph's  didn't,  mine  did,  and  so  quickly,  too,  that  I 
felt  sick  and  faint,  and  dreaded  lest  Grace's  prying  eyes 
should  inquire  the  cause  of  my  alternating  color.  But  the 
letter  absorbed  the  attention  of  all,  and  I  could  only  wait 
till  Mrs.  Churchill  should  divulge  its  contents.  Josephine 
tried  to  look  undisturbed,  but  there  was  an  accent  of  impa 
tience  in  her  tone,  as  she  said : 

"  Well,  dear  mamma,  may  I  see  it,  if  ever  you  should 
finish  it  ?  I  suppose  there  is  nothing  that  I  may  not  know 
about." 

"It  is  a  very  kind  letter,"  said  Mrs.  Churchill,  as  she 
glanced  back  to  the  beginning;  "very  kind,  indeed,  and 
you  are  all  interested  in  it.  Mr.  Rutledge  says  that  he  haa 
been  detained  at  his  place  several  weeks  longer  than  he  had 
anticipated,  and  there  is  now  a  prospect  of  hia  being  obliged 


804:  JRUTLEDGJ5. 

to  remain  till  possibly  the  middle  ol  summer;  iu  which 
event,  he  thinks  that  we  could  not  do  a  kinder  thing  than 
come  and  pay  him  a  visit.  He  describes  the  country  as 
looking  very  delightfully,  and  promises  all  sorts  of  rural 
amusements  if  we  will  come ;  and,  by  way  of  insuring  the 
enjoyment  of  the  young  ladies,  he  begs  we  will  make  up  a 
party  to  accompany  us,  and  suggests  the  Wynkars,  Mr. 
Reese,  Captain  McGuffy,  Phil,  of  course,  and  any  one  else 
we  may  choose  to  ask.  He  is  really  very  urgent,  and  begs 
we  will  not  refuse  to  enliven  the  gloomy  old  mansion  with 
our  presence  for  awhile.  He  puts  it  entirely  into  my  hands, 
and  begs  I  will  invite  whom  I  choose." 

"Delightful!"  exclaimed  Josephine.  "Mamma,  could 
anything  be  nicer .?" 

"  Mr.  Rutledge  is  '  a  gentleman  and  a  scholar,' "  said 
Grace;  "he  ought  to  be  encouraged.  You'll  accept,  of 
course  ?" 

"  Cela  depend^"1  said  her  mother,  thoughtfully. 

"  Oh,  mamma !"  cried  Josephine,  "  you  cannot  dream  of 
refusing.  What  possible  objection  can  there  be?  We  do 
not  want  to  go  to  Newport  before  the  middle  of  July,  and 
of  course  \ve  can't  stay  iu  town  all  through  June.  This  ia 
the  very  thing ;  and  you  know  I'd  rather  go  to  Rutledge 
than  any  other  place  in  the  world.  Surely,  mamma,  you 
cannot  think  of  refusing." 

"There  are  a  great  many  things  to  be  considered,  my  dear." 

"  Ah,"  cried  Grace,  with  unusual  animation,  "  there'll  be 
no  peace  till  you  say,  yes.  I  long  to  get  out  of  this  dusty 
city.  What  else  does  he  say,  mamma  ?" 

"  Not  much,"  answered  her  mother,  glancing  down  the 
second  page.  "  He  says  he  only  heard  a  few  days  ago  of 
my  niece's  illness,  which  he  hopes  will  not  prove  serious, 
and  that  a  change  of  air,  and  return  to  the  scene  of  her 
last  year's  convalescence  will  be  of  benefit  to  her." 

"How  do  you  imagine  he  heard  ahe  had  been  sick?" 
naked  Grace. 


RtTTLEDGE.  305 

"  I  haven't  the  least  idea,  I  am  sure,"  said  Josephine. 
"It's  of  no  great  consequence,  any  way.  But,  mamma, 
who  shall  we  ask  ?  The  captain,  of  course,  and  Phil,  and,  I 
suppose,  the  Wynkars ;  Ella  will  be  delighted,  no  doubt, 
and  think  it's  all  on  her  account !  And  about  Mr.  Reese — 
he's  such  a  tiresome  old  fogie,  let's  get  somebody  in  his 
place." 

"  Ask  Victor  Viennet,"  said  Grace,  "just  to  spite  Ella 
Wynkar.  You  know  she  hates  him.  He's  as  nice  as  any 
body." 

"  I  haven't  quite  made  up  my  mind,"  said  Josephine,  with 
dignity. 

"  Wait  till  I  have  made  up  mine,"  said  her  mother, 
quietly. 

So  this  was  the  way  which  Mr.  Rutledge  had  found  to 
keep  his  promise  to  me,  and  gratify  his  own  wishes  at  the 
same  time.  It  took  away  all  the  pleasure  of  my  anticipa 
tions,  however,  to  have  it  fulfilled  in  this  way.  It  seemed 
to  me  a  sort  of  desecration  of  the  grand,  quiet  stateliness  of 
the  old  place  to  have  all  these  gay  people  invading  it.  I 
could  hardly  fancy  it  full  of  careless,  noisy,  chattering 
guests,  resounding  with  the  captain's  loud  laugh,  and  Ella 
Wynkar's  unmeaning  cackle.  What  would  Mrs.  Roberta 
gay  ?  How  would  Kitty  like  it  ? 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

"  In  all  his  humors,  whether  grave  or  mellow, 
He's  such  a  testy,  touchy,  pleasant  fellow, 
Has  so  much  mirth,  and  wit,  and  spleen  about  him, 
There  is  no  living  with  him,  or  without  him." 

"  THE  next  station  will  be  Rutledge,"  said  Phil,  leaning 
back  to  announce  the  fact  to  the  detachment  of  our  party 
in  the  rear. 

"  I  am  not  sorry  to  hear  it,  for  one,"  said  Ella  Wynkar, 
with  a  yawn.  "  Josephine,  chere,  are  you  not  tired  to 
death  ?» 

But  Josephine,  chere,  was  too  busy  with  collecting 
books,  shawls,  and  bags,  and  loading  the  captain  there 
with,  in  anticipation  of  our  arrival  at  the  station,  to  vouch 
safe  an  answer. 

"  Travelling  all  day  is  rather  exhausting,"  said  Phil, 
looking  at  his  watch.  "  It's  half-past  six — a  little  behind 
time,  but  it  won't  hurt  Mr.  Rutledge  to  wait  for  us  awhile. 
Ah !  there's  the  whistle.  We  shall  be  at  the  station  in  an 
other  minute.  Now,  Aunt  Edith,  if  you  and  Miss  Wynkar 
will  trust  yourselves  to  me,  I  think  the  rest  are  provided 
for.  Victor !  what  are  you  about  ?  Don't  you  see  we're 
here,  man?" 

Victor  started  up,  and  taking  my  parasol  and  shawl, 
offered  me  his  arm  as  the  train  stopped,  and  the  conductor, 
bursting  open  the  car  door,  shouted  "  Rutledge !"  as  if  we 
were  to  escape  for  our  lives. 

I  heard  Mr.  Rutledge's  voice  before  I  saw  him.  Wt 
were  the  last  of  the  party,  and  there  being  a  little  crowd 
at  the  car-door,  we  were  obliged  to  stand  for  a  moment  in« 

806 


BDTLEDGE.  307 

side,  while  the  others  stepped  on  the  platform.  It  was  a 
lovely  June  evening ;  the  air  was  fresh  and  soft,  and  the 
sunset  had  left  a  rich  glow  on  the  sky,  and  lighted  up  with 
new  verdure  the  green  earth.  It  was  so  delicious  to  be  out 
of  the  city ;  it  was  so  bewildering  to  feel  I  was  at  Rutledge 
again.  And  with  a  beating  heart,  I  followed  my  escort,  as 
he  forced  a  way  for  me  through  the  crowd,  and  stepped 
down  on  the  platform. 

Mr.  Rutledge  was  waiting  to  receive  us*  I  was  not  quite 
self-possessed  enough  myself  to  be  certain  that  I  saw  a 
slight  change  in  his  manner  as  he  recognized  my  compan 
ion  ;  if  it  did  occur,  however,  it  was  overcome  as  quickly, 
and  he  welcomed  Mr.  Yiennet  courteously.  With  a  few 
words  of  welcome  and  congratulation  upon  my  recovery, 
he  led  the  way  toward  the  carriage.  My  aunt  and  Miss 
Wynkar  were  already  in  it.  Josephine  and  Captain 
McGuffy  were  established  in  a  light  wagon  by  themselves, 
while  the  open  carriage  and  the  bays  stood  as  yet  unappro 
priated. 

"  I  think,  Mrs.  Churchill,"  said  Mr.  Rutledge,  standing 
at  the  open  door  of  the  carriage,  "  that  perhaps  you  had 
better  make  a  place  for  this  young  lady  inside.  She  is  not 
very  strong  as  yet,  I  fancy,  and  the  evening  air  " 

"  Oh !  pray,"  I  exclaimed,  shrinking  back,  "  let  me  go  in 
the  open  carriage.  I  hate  a  close  carriage — it  always  makea 
my  head  ache." 

"  There's  not  the  least  dampness  in  the  air  to-night," 
urged  Mr.  Viennet,  and  meeting  with  no  further  opposi 
tion,  I  turned  to  the  open  carriage,  and  at  a  whispered  sug 
gestion  from  him,  mounted  up  upon  the  front  seat.  He 
sprang  up  beside  me,  and  taking  the  reins  from  Michael^ 
who,  bowing  delightedly,  had  been  saying,  "  Welcome  back, 
Miss,"  ever  since  the  train  stopped,  we  only  waited  for 
Grace  and  Ellerton  Wynkar  to  get  in,  before  we  started 
off  at  a  round  pace,  leaving  the  carriage  and  the  captain^ 
and  Mr.  Rutledge,  who  was  on  horseback,  far  behind. 


308  RrjTLEDGE. 

It  was  a  lovely  evening.  The  fields  and  woods  were  in 
their  freshest  green ;  everything,  from  the  grass  by  the 
roadside  to  the  waving  forest  trees,  looked  as  they  never 
can  look  after  June.  The  dust  of  summer,  and  its  parching 
heat,  had  not  yet  soiled  and  shrivelled  the  smallest  leaf  or 
blade  ;  but  fresh  from  the  warm  spring  rains,  and  the  plea- 
sani  spring  sunshine,  they  budded  and  shone  as  if  there 
were  no  such  thing  as  scorching  summer  heats,  and  choking 
dust,  and  parching  thirst,  to  come.  The  sky — fit  sky  to 
bend  over  such  an  earth — was  of  the  clearest  blue,  and  the 
few  clouds  that  hung  around  the  setting  sun  were  light  and 
fleecy,  tinged  with  rose  and  tipped  with  gold.  The  soft 
breeze,  coming  out  of  the  west  over  fields  of  clover  and 
acacias  in  bloom,  and  lilac  hedges,  and  cottage  gardens  full 
of  early  flowers,  and  cottage  porches  covered  with  blowing 
roses  and  climbing  honeysuckles,  steeped  the  listening 
senses  with  a  sort  of  silent  ecstasy,  that  made  commonplace 
conversation  a  profanation  of  the  hour.  Why  would  Grace 
and  her  companion  keep  up  such  a  constant  chattering.  It 
was  unbearable ;  and  when  Ellerton,  leaning  forward,  offered 
Victor  his  cigar-case,  the  latter,  with  a  quick  gesture  of  im 
patience,  exclaimed : 

"  Ah  !  merci,  not  to-night.  It's  too  nice  an  evening,  my 
good  friend,  to  be  spoiled  with  such  perfumes.  The  young 
ladies  like  roses  better  than  cigars,  I  fancy." 

And  Ellerton,  who  reverenced  Victor  as  a  high  authority 
on  all  social  questions,  quietly  put  away  his  cigar-case,  and 
said  no  more  about  it. 

It  was  a  long  drive  from  the  station  to  the  house,  and 
our  hopes  of  being  the  first  of  the  party  to  arrive,  were 
dashed  by  the  occurrence  of  a  little  accident  just  as  we 
entered  the  village.  The  off  horse,  shying  violently  at  n 
loaded  wragon,  as  we  passed  it  rapidly,  reared  and  fell  back, 
breaking  the  pole  in  two,  and  throwing  himself  and  his  fel 
low  into  ecstasies  of  fear,  plunging  and  struggling  with  the 
want  of  presence  of  mind,  and  the  reckless  disregard  of  con 


KUTLEDGE.  809 

sequences  always  manifested  by  terrified  horseflesh  under 
circumstances  of  sudden  alarm. 

Victor,  however,  was  a  good  horseman,  and  after  a  short 
battle,  brought  them  to  terms,  Grace,  meantime,  shrieking 
violently,  and  Ellerton  imploring  him  to  let  him  get  the 
ladies  out  at  once,  which  looked  rather  like  one  word  for 
the  ladies  and  two  for  himself.  Victor  requested  him 
simply  to  hold  his  tongue  and  sit  still,  and  Ellerton,  with 
out  a  remonstrance,  acquiesced,  as  the  horses,  now  sub 
dued,  stood  quite  unresisting,  while  Victor,  giving  the 
reins  to  me,  sprang  down,  followed  by  Michael  from  behind, 
and  the  countryman,  whose  load  of  brush  had  caused  the 
accident.  We  were,  fortunately,  just  by  a  blackswith's 
shed,  and  in  a  few  minutes  that  official  himself,  in  his 
leathern  apron  and  bare  arms,  was  busily  employed  in 
remedying  the  mishap. 

The  horses  were  still  a  little  restive,  and  Victor  was 
standing  by  the  head  of  one  and  Michael  by  the  other, 
when  the  rest  of  the  party  came  up.  Quite  an  excitement 
was  created,  of  course,  at  seeing  us  in  this  disabled  condi 
tion,  and  our  host,  springing  from  his  horse,  hurried  up  in 
some  alarm  to  ascertain  for  himself  the  extent  of  the  acci 
dent,  which  Ellerton  Wynkar,  standing  up  in  the  carriage, 
explained  at  large  to  the  rest  of  the  party,  adding  that,  "it 
might  have  been  something  serious  if  we  had  not  been  very 
prompt." 

Victor  bit  his  lip  to  keep  from  laughing,  and  Grace 
turned  away  her  head ;  nothing  but  the  consciousness  ol 
not  having  distinguished  herself  during  the  action,  re 
strained  her  from  bringing  down  Mr.  Wynkar  "  a  peg  or 
two  "  by  a  statement  of  facts. 

Mr.  Rutledge,  finding  that  the  repairing  of  the  pole 
was  likely  to  occupy  some  little  time  longer,  said  that  the 
young  ladies  had  better  get  in  the  carriage ;  he  had  no 
doubt  Mr.  Arbuthnot  would  willingly  give  up  his  seat. 

Phil,  of  course,  most  urgently  begged  we  would  do  so, 


810  BUTLEDGE. 

but  for  me,  the  idea  of  being  cooped  up  in  the  carriage 
with  Mrs.  Churchill,  and  Ella,  and  Grace,  was  insupport 
able,  and  I  expressed  my  resolution  of  staying  by  the  ship. 
Mr.  Vieunet  and  the  smithy  said  it  would  only  be  a  few 
minutes  more,  and  I  declared  I  didn't  in  the  least  mind 
waiting,  it  was  such  a  lovely  evening,  and  I  couldn't  think 
of  crowding  the  carriage. 

Grace,  partly  from  perversity,  and  partly  from  a  little 
lingering  fear  of  the  bays,  said  she  should  accept  Phil'8 
invitation,  and  without  more  ado,  gave  her  hand  to  Mr. 
Rutledge  and  sprang  out. 

"  May  I  advise  you  ?"  said  he,  coming  back  to  me  after 
he  had  put  Grace  in  the  carriage. 

"  Not  against  my  will,  if  you  please.  Indeed,  I  had 
rather  wait." 

"That  settles  it,"  he  answered,  bowing.  "I'm  sorry, 
gentlemen,"  he  continued,  to  Victor  and  Ellerton,  "  to 
leave  you  in  this  fashion,  but  my  duties,  as  host,  require  me 
to  ride  forward  with  the  ladies,  and  I  hope  you  will  soon 
follow  us." 

Victor  assured  him  of  his  perfect  confidence,  that  we 
would  be  at  home  almost  as  soon  as  they  would ;  and  then, 
with  a  polite  commendation  of  his  fortitude  under  misfor 
tune,  Mr.  Rutledge  threw  himself  upon  his  horse,  and  gal 
loped  after  the  carriage.  I  could  not  help  feeling  a  little 
awkwardly ;  it  is  never  pleasant  to  be  the  only  lady  among 
a  number  of  gentlemen.  Besides  those  of  our  own  party, 
several  men  of  the  village  had  collected  around  us,  and 
with  their  hands  in  their  pockets,  and  in  a  very  easy,  saun 
tering  way,  were  offering  their  comments  on  the  accident. 

Victor  walked  angrily  up  to  one,  who,  with  a  short  pipe 
between  his  lips,  had  ventured  rather  too  near,  and  was 
leaning  nonchalantly  against  the  fore-wheel ;  and  knocking 
the  pipe  out  of  his  .mouth,  took  him  by  the  shoulder  and 
ordered  him  to  take  himself  off.  Didn't  he  see  there  was  a 
lady  in  the  carriage  ? 


BUTLEEGE.  311 

The  man  moved  sulkily  away,  but  I  saw  him  more  than 
once  look  back  with  an  ugly  expression  in  his  eyes  toward 
Victor,  as  he  crossed  the  road  and  disappeared  in  the  woods 
that  skirted  the  highway. 

Just  at  that  moment,  a  sorrel  horse  drew  up  beside  us, 
and  an  inquiring  face  was  thrust  out  from  the  gig  be 
hind  it. 

"  What's  the  matter,  Michael  ?  Anybody  hurt  ?  An 
accident,  did  you  say  ?"  inquired  a  voice  that  gave  me  a 
cold  chill. 

"That  detestable  doctor  already!"  And  returning 
stiffly  his  salutations  as  he  recognized  me,  and  hurried  up 
to  the  carriage,  I  said  there  had  been  no  accident  to  any 
thing  but  the  pole  of  the  carriage,  and  that  was  nearly 
remedied,  and  we  had  plenty  of  assistance. 

The  doctor  bowed,  but  did  not  seem  in  the  least  discom 
posed  by  my  too  obvious  rudeness,  and  leaning  comfortably 
on  the  wheel,  as  the  dismissed  clown  had  done  before  him, 
continued  to  address  me  in  a  tone  of  easy  familiarity  that 
was  too  annoying  to  me  to  be  concealed,  and  my  face  must 
have  told  the  story ;  for  Victor,  calling  to  one  of  the  men 
to  hold  the  horses  a  moment,  walked  quickly  up  behind 
the  doctor,  and  laying  his  hand  heavily  on  his  shoulder, 
said,  in  a  tone  by  no  means  equivocal : 

"  I  say,  my  good  fellow,  you  are  annoying  this  lady,  and 
I  must  ask  you  to  step  back !" 

The  doctor  did  step  back,  and  turning  quickly,  faced 
him. 

"  Victor  Viennet,  as  I  am  a  sinner  1" 

I  looked  on  in  wonder,  as  I  saw  Victor  give  a  violent 
Btart,  and  change  color ;  then  recovering  himself  after  a 
moment,  he  said,  in  altered  voice  : 

"  I  ask  your  pardon,  Dr.  Hugh,  I  didn't  see  your  face. 
How,  under  heaven,  did  you  happen  to  turn  up  here  ?" 

There  was  an  expression  on  Victor's  face,  as  he  said  thii, 
which  seemed  involuntarily  to  indicate  that  the  fact  orf 


312  KUTLEDGE. 

Dr.  Hugh's  turning  up  here,  was  just  the  most  disagreeable 
fact  that  could  possibly  have  transpired,  and  so  essentially 
"  cute  "  a  man  as  the  doctoi%,  could  not  have  failed  to  see  it, 
but  it  did  not  seem  in  the  least  to  interfere  with  his  com 
placency. 

"  How  did  I  happen  to  turn  up  here  ?  Why,  my  good 
fellow  (as  you  said  just  now),  by  the  most  natural  process 
in  the  world.  You  see,  after  we  parted,  a  year  ago,  in  the 
city  "— 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  Victor,  hurriedly,  and  in  a  low  tone, 
"  I've  got  to  look  after  the  smith  now.  You  can  tell  me 
there." 

And  making  some  apology  to  me  for  the  continued 
detention,  he  turned  to  retrace  hig  steps.  The  doctor 
followed,  and  passed  his  arm  familiarly  through  Victor's,  at 
which  I  saw  he  winced,  but  did  not  attempt  to  resent ;  and 
the  doctor  continued  to  talk  to  him  in  a  low  and  confiden 
tial  tone.  Twilight  had  already  descended  before  the  smith 
pronounced  the  job  completed,  and  Michael,  backing  up 
the  horses,  put  them  to  the  carriage.  While  this  was  being 
accomplished,  Victor  and  Dr.  Hugh,  standing  a  few  paces 
apart  from  the  others,  talked  together,  or  rather,  the 
doctor  talked  and  Victor  listened  with  ill-concealed  impa 
tience. 

I  could  not  hear  a  word  that  passed,  but  I  could  see  tnat 
Victor  was  suflering  torture  at  the  hands  of  the  bland 
doctor,  and  his  face,  for  several  minutes  after  he  had 
parted  from  him  and  resumed  his  seat  in  the  carriage,  wore 
an  expression  of  pain  and  anger.  We  had  started  and 
driven  on  for  some  distance  before  either  spoke,  and  the 
first  to  break  the  silence,  I  said,  with  more  curiosity  than 
coui'tesy : 

"  How  in  the  world  did  you  nappen  to  know  that  detest 
able  doctor  ?  I  didn't  suppose  anybody  had  ever  seen  him 
before  he  came  here." 

"  Detestable  you  may  well  call  him,"  said  Victor,  below 


KUTLEDGE. 

his  breath,  and  with  a  sort  of  groan.     "  I'd  rather  have  met 
the  arch-fiend  himself!" 

Then  hastily  remembering  himself,  he  apologized,  ex 
claiming,  with  a  laugh,  that  the  fellow  always  put  him  out 
of  temper,  and  bored  him  to  death,  and  he  hoped  he  should 
never  see  him  again,  and  he  didn't  mean  to  trouble  himself 
any  further  about  him.  With  that  last  resolution,  his 
spirits  rose,  and  in  a  few  minutes  he  was  as  gay  as  ever. 
We  were  dashing  along  at  such  an  inspiriting  pace,  that  no 
one  could  help  throwing  dull  care,  and  all  things  sad 
and  gloomy,  to  the  winds,  and  being  pro  tern,  in  the 
highest  spirits. 

•'  I  am  sure  you  drive  as  well  as  you  dance,"  said  Victor, 
putting  the  reins  into  my  hands.  "Let  me  see  whether  you 
know  how  to  handle  the  ribbons." 

Put  upon  my  mettle  in  that  way,  nothing  could  have 
induced  me  to  have  declined  the  undertaking,  though  I  hap 
pened  to  know  a  thing  or  two  in  the  early  history  of  the 
bays  that  Mr.  Viennet  was  evidently  ignorant  of,  and  the 
recollection  of  which  put  a  nervous  intensity  into  the  grasp 
I  had  upon  the  reins. 

"  Admirable  !"  said  Victor,  with  enthusiasm  ;  "  I  see  you 
understand  what  you  are  about.  You  manage  those  beasts 
as  well  as  I  could,  and  there's  no  denying  it,  they  do 
pull." 

"  Pull  isn't  the  word,"  I  thought ;  "  but  no  matter." 

"  What  a  good  road !"  exclaimed  Victor.  "We're  going 
like  the  wind.  Ellerton,  this  is  fine,  is  it  not  ?" 

"  Charming,"  said  Ellerton,  feebly,  from  the  back  seat ; 
"  charming ;  I  never  saw  a  lady  drive  so  well ;  but  don't 
you  think,  it's  getting  so  dark,  it  would  be  better  for  you  to 
take  the  reins  ?  You  can  see  better,  you  know." 

"  On  the  contrary,"  said  Victor,  with  great  glee,  "  on  the 
contrary ;  the  female  vision,  you  know,  is  proverbially  the 
sharpest.  Shall  I  touch  up  that  near  horse?  He  rather 
lags,"  he  continued,  wickedly,  to  me. 

14 


814  1CTJTLEDGE. 

"  Oh  no,  thank  you !"  I  said,  breathlessly,  but  trying  to 
laugh. 

"  I'm  sure  you're  tired,"  said  Mr.  Wynkar,  with  great 
feeling.  "You  speak  as  if  you  were.  Victor,  you  lazy  dog, 
take  the  reins,  if  you  have  any  politeness  left." 

"  I  haven't,"  said  Victor,  leaning  back  with  composure. 
"  I  haven't  a  vestige  left.  I  used  up  the  last  I  had  about 
me  on  that  boor  with  the  short  pipe,  who  gave  me  such  a 
gracious  look  as  he  walked  off." 

"  Yes,"  I  exclaimed,  "  I  think  you'll  hear  from  him 
again." 

"  Not  improbable,"  said  Victor,  coolly.  "  I  have  a  knack 
at  getting  into  scrapes  that's  only  exceeded  by  my  knack  at 
getting  out  of  them.  Now  I  think  of  it,  he  didn't  look  like  a 
pleasant  sort  of  fellow  to  meet  in  a  dark  piece  of  woods 
like  this." 

We  had  just  driven  into  the  woods  that  stretched  about 
half  a  mile  this  side  of  the  gate  of  Rutledge  Park,  and  the 
faint  young  moon  that  had  been  lighting  us  since  we  left  the 
village,  had  no  power  to  penetrate  the  dense  foliage  that 
met  over  our  heads,  and  shut  out  moon  and  sky.  It  did  not 
make  me  any  more  comfortable  to  remember  that  there  was 
a  short  path  from  the  village  across  these  woods,  and  that 
any  one  on  foot  could  reach  this  point  almost  as  soon  as  in  a 
carriage  by  the  road.  I  did  not  feel  like  laughing  at  Eller- 
ton  Wynkar's  little  gasp  of  fear,  and  Victor's  gay  laugh 
and  easy  tone  of  assurance,  far  from  inspiring  me  with  con- 
fidence,  made  me  doubly  nervous  and  apprehensive.  I  only 
wished  that  I  dared  ask  him  to  be  quiet  till  AVC  were  out 
into  the  open  road  again.  But  he  seemed  possessed  with 
mischief— he  quizzed  Ellerton,  told  droll  stories,  and  laughed 
till  the  woods  rang  again.  But  through  it  all,  I  strained 
my  ear  to  catch  the  faintest  noise  by  the  roadside ;  and 
when  the  horses,  more  intent  than  I,  shied  violently  to  one 
side  and  dashed  forward,  with  a  quivering,  desperate  pull 
upon  the  reins,  I  was  quite  prepared  for  what  succeeded. 


&UTLEDGE.  315 

A  large  stone  whirred  swiftly  through  the  air,  just  grazed 
my  cheek,  and  fell  with  a  crashing  sound  on  the  other  side 
of  the  road. 

"  Good  heavens !"  cried  Victor,  starting  forward,  "  are 
you  hurt  ?" 

"  No,  no,"  I  exclaimed ;  "  for  heaven's  sake,  be  quiet." 

"  Give  me  the  reins,"  he  cried,  snatching  them. 

"  No,  no !"  I  answered,  keeping  them  by  a  desperate 
exertion  of  strength.  "I  shall  never  forgive  you  if  you  stop 
the  horses." 

"  I  shall  never  forgive  myself  for  the  danger  I  have 
brought  you  in,"  he  said,  in  a  low  tone.  "  You  will  never 
trust  yourself  to  my  protection  again,  I  fear,"  he  continued 
earnestly,  as  we  drove  into  the  park  gate. 

"  Oh,  I'm  not  afraid  as  long  as  I  hold  the  ribbons,"  I 
answered,  trying  to  laugh,  but  drawing  a  freer  breath 
as  we  cleared  the  woods  and  came  into  the  moonlight 
again. 

"  You  are  cruel,"  he  said,  in  a  lower  tone  still. 

"  There's  the  house  at  last  1"  exclaimed  Ellerton,  with  a 
sigh  of  relief  so  profound  that  we  both  started. 

"  How  are  you  getting  on,  behind  there  ?"  asked  Victor. 
"  I'd  forgotten  all  about  you,  Ellerton.  That  was  a  neat 
little  compliment  from  our  friend,  in  the  woods,  now 
wasn't  it  ?  But  the  least  said  about  those  little  attentions 
the  better,  I've  always  found ;  you  understand  '  Oh  no,  we 
never  mentions  him,'  under  any  circumstances." 

"  Of  course  not,"  said  Ellerton,  acquiescently.  "  I  should 
not  speak  of  it  on  any  account." 

"  And,  Michael,  my  man,"  continued  Victor,  putting  his 
hand  in  his  pocket,  "whist's  the  word  about  this  little 
adventure,  you  know." 

Michael  touched  his  hat,  and,  pocketing  the  com  that 
Victor  tossed  him,  promised  absolute  silence  on  the  subject. 

The  horses,  as  we  came  up  the  avenue,  slackened  their 
pace,  and  gave  us  time  to  look  around.  Sunset,  starlight 


S16  RUTLEDGE. 

moonlight,  had  neither  of  them  abdicated  the  bright  Jun6 
sky,  but  all  combined  to  light  up  the  picture  for  us,  and 
make  the  lake  a  sheet  of  silver,  and  the  dark,  old  house  as 
fair  as  it  could  be  made. 

"  A  fine  old  place,  indeed,"  said  Victor,  with  a  temporary 
shade  of  seriousness  on  his  face.  "  It  must  be  pleasant  to 
have  such  an  ancestral  home  as  that.  These  Rutledges  are 
a  high  family,  are  they  not  ?" 

"  One  of  the  very  best  in  the  State ;"  answered  Ellerton, 
feeling  tnat  "  family  "  was  always  a  toast  to  which  he  was 
called  upon  to  respond.  "  There  are  very  few  in  the  country 
who  can  go  back  so  far.  The  Rutledges  have  always  been 
very  exclusive,  and  held  themselves  very  high,  and  so  havo 
never  lost  their  position." 

"  Ha !"  said  Victor,  with  a  little  darkening  of  the  brow. 
"That's  the  style,  is  it?  Our  host,  then,  is  a  proud  man,  I 
am  to  understand — one  who  values  birth,  and  that  sort  of 
thing,  and  plumes  himself  upon  it,  and  regards  with  a  pro 
per  scorn  all  who  have  come  into  the  world  under  less 
favorable  auspices  than  himself." 

"Exactly,"  said  Ellerton.  "I  think  that's  Rutledge 
exactly.  He's  what  you'd  call  a  regular  aristocrat,  and 
proud  as  Lucifer  himself." 

"  I  kiss  his  hand !"  cried  Victor,  with  a  dash  of  bitterness 
in  his  tone.  "Commend  me  to  such  a  man  as  that!  I 
reverence  his  largeness  of  soul,  his  nobility  of  nature !  I 
long  to  show  him  in  what  esteem  I  hold  him." 

"  I  think  you  mistake  Mr.  Rutledge,"  I  began  eagerly ; 
but  before  I  had  time  to  say  another  word  we  were  at  the 
door,  and  Mr.  Rutledge  himself,  descending  the  steps 
quickly,  and  speaking  with  some  anxiety,  exclaimed : 

"We  have  been  very  uneasy  about  you.  I  have  just 
sent  orders  to  the  stable  for  horses  to  start  to  meet  you. 
Has  anything  happened  ?" 

"  The  pole  required  just  three  times  as  long  to  repair  as 
Mr.  Smithy  said  it  would,"  answered  Victor,  "  and  we,  very 


BUTLEDGB.  317 

foolishly  depending  upon  his  word  in  the  matter,  were  much 
disappointed  in  not  reaching  the  house  three-quarters  of 
an  hour  ago.  I  am  sorry  to  have  caused  you  any  uneasi 
ness." 

"It  is  dissipated  now,"  said  Mr.  Rutledge,  courteously. 
"  I  only  regret  that  your  arrival  should  have  been  marked 
by  such  a  misadventure." 

"  What  would  he  say  if  he  knew  of  misadventure  number 
two  ?"  said  Victor,  sotto  voce1  as  he  assisted  me  to  alight. 
"  I  feel  positively  superstitious.  No  good  is  coming  of  this 
visit,  depend  upon  it !" 

As  we  were  half-way  up  the  steps,  I  found  I  had  for 
gotten  my  parasol,  and  Victor  went  back  to  look  for  it. 
Mr.  Rutledge,  seizing  the  opportunity  of  his  absence,  said 
to  me  quickly : 

"  I  see  you  drove  those  horses ;  you  must  promise  me  you 
will  never  do  it  again." 

"  Why  not  ?"  I  asked,  haughtily. 

"  No  matter  why  ;  you  must  promise  me  you  will  never 
touch  the  reins  again  behind  them." 

a  I  am  sure  I  drove  them  up  in  style ;  Michael  himself 
could  not  have  done  it  better.  I  don't  think  I  can  bind 
myself  never  to  do  it  again.  You'll  have  to  excuse  me  from 
promising." 

"I  remember  ;  you  have  a  prejudice  against  promising." 

There  was  something  in  his  tone,  and  in  the  short  laugh 
that  followed  these  words,  that  brought  back  so  much  of 
what  I  had  been  trying  to  forget,  and  revived  so  much  of 
what  I  had  half  forgiven,  that  I  made  no  eifort  to  keep 
back  the  hasty  words  that  rushed  to  my  lips. 

"  Can  you  wonder  at  it  ?  My  experience  has  been  so 
unfortunate ;  why,  less  than  a  year  ago,  I  made  a  promise 
that,  I  suppose,  was  as  binding  as  most  other  promises,  and 
meant  about  as  much ;  and  I  have  found  it  a  chain  at  once 
the  lightest  and  most  galling — empty  as  air,  and  yet  the 
batefullest  restraint — the  veriest  mockery,  and  yet  a  thing 


818  BTJTLEDGE. 

I  cant't  get  rid  of!  That's  briefly  what  I  think  of  promises, 
and  why  you  must  excuse  me  from  making  one." 

"  I  will  excuse  you,"  he  said,  looking  at  me  with  eyes 
that  never  faltered ;  "  I  will  excuse  you,  with  all  my  heart, 
from  making  or  keeping  any  promise  to  me." 

This  upon  the  threshold !  Under  the  very  shadow  of  the 
doorway !  I  felt  faint  and  giddy  as  I  passed  on  into  the 
hall.  Kitty,  with  a  low  cry  of  delight,  sprung  forward  to 
meet  me. 

"  Kitty,  I  am  so  glad !"  I  said,  laying  my  hand  upon  her 
arm.  "  Isn't  it  a  long  time  since  I  went  away  ?  But  I  am 
so  tired ;  do  take  me  to  my  room." 

Kitty  flew  up  the  stairs  in  delight,  only  stopping  occa 
sionally  to  ask  me  if  I  didn't  feel  well,  and  if  she  couldn't 
help  me.  All  the  others  had  gone  to  their  rooms ;  not  even 
Mrs.  Roberts  was  to  be  seen. 

"  She's  got  her  hands  too  full  to  proAvl  around  now,"  said 
Kitty,  with  a  wicked  shake  of  the  head.  She  led  the  way 
to  my  old  room,  and,  to  my  surprise,  putting  her  hand  in 
her  pocket,  drew  out  the  key,  and  fitted  it  in  the  lock. 

"  What's  the  reason  of  its  being  locked  up  ?"  I  said  in 
surprise. 

"  Reason  enough,  Miss,"  said  Kitty,  with  a  profound  look. 
Then,  admitting  me  and  shutting  the  door  carefully,  con 
tinued,  in  a  less  guarded  tone :  "  The  idea  of  your  coming 
back  here  and  having  any  but  your  own  room !  And  it's 
been  just  as  much  as  I  could  do  to  keep  Mrs.  Roberts  from 
putting  Miss  Churchill  in  it.  Such  a  time  as  I  had  about  it 
when  the  baggage  came !  None  of  the  ladies  had  come 
upstairs  yet ;  they  were  all  walking  about  the  piazza  and 
hall  with  master,  and  Thomas  was  seemg  to  the  trunks 
being  carried  up,  and  I  overheard  Mrs.  Roberts  say: 
*  Thomas,  Miss  Churchill's  baggage  is  to  be  put  in  the  blue 
room,  and  her  mamma's  and  Miss  Grace's  in  the  -oak-cham 
ber  opposite,  and  Miss  Wynkar's  goes  in  the  south  room.' 
k  No,  I  beg  your  pardon,  ma'am,'  I  says,  coming  forward. 


ETTTLEDGE. 

my  young  lady's  trunk  goes  to  the  blue  room,  if  you  please, 
I've  master's  own  orders  for  it,  and  I'll  go  ask  him  again  if 
you  choose.'  '  Your  young  lady,  indeed !'  says  Mrs. 
Roberts,  throwing  me  such  an  awful  look.  '  Thomas,  you 
will  attend  to  my  orders.'  I  flew  upstairs  and  put  the  key 
in  my  pocket,  and  Thomas  tipped  me  a  wink,  and  left  your 
trunk  outside  the  door.  And  now,"  said  Kitty,  stopping  a 
moment  to  recover  breath,  "  don't  you  think  it  looks  plea 
sant,  Miss  ?" 

"  Indeed  it  does,  Kitty,"  I  said,  gratefully,  sinking  down 
in  an  easy-chair,  and  looking  about  me  admiringly.  It 
looked  whiter  and  cooler  than  ever.  There  were  new 
book-shelves  in  the  recesses,  and  new  curtains  at  the 
windows ;  roses,  mignonette  and  heliotrope,  filled  the  slen 
der  vases,  and  the  wax  candles  on  the  dressing-table  shed 
the  softest  light  around  the  room.  Kitty,  busying  herself 
about  putting  away  my  bonnet  and  shawls,  chatted  on 
eagerly. 

"Gay  times,  these,  for  Rutledge,"  she  went  on,  after 
having  answered  my  inquiries  for  Stephen  and  the  others. 
"  Gay  times,  and  busy  times.  Who'd  ever  have  thought  to 
see  this  house  full  of  company  again  ?" 

"  Yes,"  I  said,  "  so  busy,  I  am  afraid,  I  shall  not  have 
much  of  your  attendance,  Kitty.  It  will  not  be  like  last 
fall,  when  you  had  nothing  to  do  but  wait  on  me.  What 
nice  times  those  were !  I  wish  all  the  rest  of  the  people 
were  miles  away,  Kitty,  and  there  was  no  one  in  the  house 
that  wasn't  here  last  November." 

"  Oh !"  exclaimed  Kitty,  deprecatingly,  "  I'm  sure  you'll 
enjoy  it,  Miss,  with  so  many  young  gentlemen  and  ladies. 
I'm  certain  master  thought  you  would,  or  he  wouldn't  have 
asked  them.  And  as  for  my  waiting  on  you,  why  that's  wll 
settled,  and  Mrs.  Roberts  knows  it  too.  Mr.  Rutledge  told 
me  this  very  morning  that  he  supposed  it  would  please  me 
to  be  allowed  to  attend  upon  you,  and  that  I  was  to  con 
sider  that  my  duty  as  long  as  you  were  Kere.  Mrs.  Roberts 


320  RUTLEDGE. 

had  come  in  for  some  directions,  and  she  heard  it  all.  She 
jerked  her  head,  and  flounced  a  little,  but  didn't  dare  to 
say  a  word.  But,"  continued  Kitty,  anxiously,  "  I'm  afraid 
you  are  not  well.  Can  I  get  you  anything  ?  Won't  you 
lie  down  ?  Oh !  I  am  afraid  you  are  crying." 

Kitty's  fears  were  not  unfounded.  The  tears  rushed  to 
my  eyes,  and  hiding  my  face  in  my  hands,  I  tried,  but 
rainly,  to  suppress  the  hysterical  sobs  that  choked  me,  as  I 
essayed  to  answer  her  anxious  questions.  She  was  so  disap 
pointed  and  alarmed  at  my  unexpected  mood  that  she  hardly 
knew  what  to  do,  and  I  tried,  as  soon  as  I  could  speak,  to 
assure  her  that  I  was  really  very  glad  to  get  back,  that 
there  was  nothing  the  matter,  only  I  was  very  nervous  and 
tired. 

"  And  there's  the  tea-beU !"  exclaimed  Kitty,  in  dismay, 
"  and  everybody  else  is  dressed !  What's  to  be  done  ?" 

"  There's  nothing  for  it,  Kitty,  but  to  let  me  go  to  bed. 
I  can't  go  downstairs  to-night — it  would  kill  me.  Undress 
me,  and  then  don't  let  a  soul  come  in — not  even  my  aunt. 
That's  a  good  Kitty :  it  isn't  the  first  tune  you've  taken  care 
of  me." 

"  Ah  !"  said  Kitty,  with  tears  in  her  kind  eyes,  "  if  I  only 
knew  what  to  do  to  make  you  better !  It  isn't  the  head 
ache  that  I  mean — a  cup  of  tea  and  a  good  night's  rest  will 
make  that  all  right ;  but  you  ain't  the  same  young  lady  that 
you  were  last  fah1.  I  saw  that  the  minute  you  stepped  into 
the  hall.  There's  something  on  your  mind ;  I  knew  it  the 
instant  you  spoke.  When  you  used  to  talk,  it  was  as  if 
there  was  a  laugh  in  your  voice  all  the  time,  and  now  you 
talk  as  if  you  were  tired,  and  hated  to  open  your  lips." 

"  So  I  am,  Kitty,"  I  said,  with  a  fresh  burst  of  crying. 
"  I  am  tired  and  heart-sick,  and  when  I  talk  it's  no  wonder 
there  are  '  tears  in  my  voice.'  There  are  a  great  many  things 
to  make  me  unhappy;  you  mustn't  ask  me  anything  about 
them ;  but  it's  so  long  since  I've  had  anybody  to  care  for 
me,  and  nurse  me,  that  it  makes  me  babyish,  I  believe. 


K  (.   T  L  E  D  G  E  .  321 

There !"  I  exclaimed,  after  a  minute,  conquering  my  tears, 
"  don't  think  anything  more  about  it,  Kitty,  but  help  me  to 
undress." 

There  could  have  been  no  better  medicine  for  my  aching 
head  and  heart,  than  that  Kitty  administered.  It  was  a 
perfect  luxury  to  resign  myself  into  her  hands,  to  feel  that 
I  needn't  think  again  to-night  if  I  didn't  choose,  that  I  was 
sure  of  being  watched  over  and  cared  for,  come  what  might. 
I  had  not  realized,  till  I  came  into  its  sunshine  again,  how 
perfectly  necessary  to  anything  like  happiness  an  atmos 
phere  of  love  is.  I  had  known  that,  in  my  home,  I  had  felt 
chilled  and  forlorn.  I  had  given  no  pleasure  to  others,  and 
received  none  myself;  but,  child-like,  I  had  only  known  it 
was,  and  had  not  asked  why.  But  now,  that  kind  and  ten 
der  hands  rendered  the  services  that  I  had  long  wearily 
performed  for  myself,  and  a  watchful  care  provided  for  my 
comfort  and  remembered  my  tastes,  I  realized  how  unnatu 
ral  and  unkind  a  thing  it  is  for  anything  of  human  mold  to 
be  denied  human  love  and  sympathy ;  I  realized  how  neces 
sary  to  the  fair  growth  and  goodly  proportions  of  a  nature, 
is  the  sunshine  of  kindness  and  affection.  Since  I  had  left 
Rutledge,  I  had  never  known  what  it  was  to  be  caressed 
and  favored ;  misconstrued,  slighted,  and  put  aside  by  those 
around  me,  the  natural  result  had  been  reserve,  distrust, 
and  aversion  on  my  part.  I  was,  as  Kitty  said,  not  the 
same  girl  I  had  been.  I  knew  better  than  Kitty  did  how 
deep  the  change  had  gone — how  far  below  the  surface  the 
blight  had  struck.  The  brave,  gay  heart  of  the  child  was 
dead  in  my  bosom  forever.  Whatever  there  might  be  to 
hope  for,  in  the  future,  it  must  be  the  life-and-death  strug 
gle  and  victory  of  the  woman,  not  the  careless  happiness  oi 
the  child. 


14* 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

1  Love  is  hurt  with  jar  and  fret, 
Love  is  made  a  vague  regret, 
Eyes  with  idle  tears  are  wet, 
Idle  habit  links  as  yet — 
What  is  love  ?  for  we  forget ; 
Ah!  no,  no !'' 

TENNYSON. 

MY  bright-eyed  maid  had  something  evidently  on  her 
mind  the  nexi,  morning,  as  stealing  early  to  my  bedside,  she 
found  me  awake  and  quite  ready  for  her  services.  I  caught 
sight  of  her  perplexed  face  in  the  glass,  as  she  dressed  my 
hair,  and  said  at  last,  "  What  are  you  thinking  about,  Kitty, 
has  anything  happened  ?" 

"Happened?  Oh,  no,  Miss,"  she  said,  blushing,  and 
a  little  confused.  "  I  was  only  thinking — I  was  only  won 
dering  " 

"Well,  Kitty?" 

"  I  mean  that — that  is — are  you  very  fond  of  Miss 
Churchill  ?» 

I  laughed  and  blushed  a  little  in  my  turn,  and  said : 

"  Why  no,  not  particularly,  I  think." 

"  Because  I  think  she's  a  very  haughty  lady,  for  my  part; 
and  if  I  am  any  judge,  her  maid,  Frances,  is  a  much-put-upon 
young  woman,  that's  all." 

"  What  has  led  you  to  that  conclusion  so  soon  ?"  I  asked, 
with  a  smile. 

"  Oh !  nothing  particular,  ma'am,  only  some  of  Misa 
Churchill's  ruffled  morning  dresses  got  crushed  in  the 
packing,  and  Frances  was  in  the  laundry  till  after  twelve 
o'clock  last  night,  fluting  'em  over;  and  I've  noticed, 
Frances  starts  and  flusters  when  her  lady's  bell  rings,  as  if 


TCUTLEDGE.  323 

irt>rfc  were  «;  scolding  for  her  at  the  other  end  of  the  wire, 
that's  all." 

"  Oh,  that's  a  trifle  !  Frances  is  nervous,"  I  said,  apolo 
getically.  "  What  did  my  aunt  say  when  you  told  her  my 
message  last  night  ?" 

"  Nothing  but  '  very  well,'  and  '  I  am  sorry  to  hear  it.' 
There  wasn't  time  for  any  more,  for  the  gentleman  they 
call  Captain,  with  the  big  moustache,  came  up  for  her  to 
play  whist,  and  she  went  away  with  him.  But,"  said  Kitty, 
hesitatingly,  and  looking  at  me  very  sharply,  "I  don't  know 
whether  I  ought  to  tell  you,  but  there  was  a  gentleman 
who  didn't  seem  to  take  it  quite  so  coolly  as  Mrs.  Churchill 
did."  • 

"  Who,  pray  ?"  I  asked,  as  the  blood  started  to  my 
cheeks. 

"  The  young  French  gentleman,  Miss ;  I  think  they  call 
him  Mr." 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Viennet !" 

"  I  wonder,  Miss,  why  you  say  '  Oh,  Mr.  Viennet !'  as  if 
you  were  disappointed,"  said  Kitty,  quite  nettled.  "  I'm 
sure  he's  the  handsomest  gentleman  among  'em;  and  if  you 
could  have  seen  him,  when  he  followed  me  up  the  stairs, 
and  asked  about  you,  I  am  sure  you'd  think  better  of  it ; 
and  he's  got  the  handsomest  eyes  !  I  cam't  think  why  you 
don't  like  him." 

"  I  have  not  said  I  did  not ;  and  besides,  Kitty,"  I  con 
tinued,  gravely,  "  it's  not  right  for  you  to  talk  tc  the  gentle 
men  ;  you  must  be  careful." 

"  I  know,  Miss  ;  but  who  could  help  talking  to  such  a 
nice  gentleman,  just  answering  his  questions  ?  I'm  sure  he 
could  get  round  Mrs.  Roberts  herself,  if  he  tried  !  let  alone 
people  that  ain't  made  of  stone  or  leather.  And,"  continued 
Kitty,  "  isn't  it  odd,  Miss,  but  all  the  time  he  was  talking  to 
me,  I  couldn't  help  wondering  where  I'd  seen  him  before  ? 
I  know  for  a  certainty,  that  he's  never  been  within  forty 
miles  of  Rutledge  till  now,  and  I've  never  been  twenty 


324  E  U  T  L  K  1)  G   K  . 

miles  away  from  it ;  and  yet,  for  my  life,  I  couldn't  get  it 
out  of  my  head,  that  some  where  or  otLer  I'd  seen  him 
before !" 

"  It's  a  very  foolish  idea  to  have  in  your  head,  Kitty,  and 
a  very  improbable  one  at  the  best ;  so  I  wouldn't  trouble 
myself  any  further  about  it,  if  I  were  you." 

I  did  not  mention  it  to  Kitty,  but  I  could  not  help  being 
struck  with  the  similarity  of  my  own  impressions  on  first 
meeting  Victor  Viennet.  It  was  the  vaguest,  mistiest  chain 
of  reminiscence  that  his  face  seemed  to  stir,  but  till  I  had 
seen  him  several  times,  it  continued  to  perplex  me.  I  could 
not  account  for  it  in  any  way ;  but  the  association  or  recol 
lection,  or  whatever  it  was,  had  faded  before  a  closer 
acquaintance;  and  now  Victor  Viennet's  handsome  face 
suggested  Victor  Viennet,  and  nobody  or  nothing  more. 

"  These  will  match  your  lilac  muslin  exactly,  Miss,"  said 
Kitty,  oflering  me  a  handful  of  purple  "  morning  glories." 
"  I  ran  out  to  get  you  some  flowers  before  I  came  hi  to 
wake  you,  but  I  was  in  such  a  hurry,  that  I  couldn't  go  as 
far  as  the  garden,  and  so  just  picked  these  out  of  the 
hedge." 

I  thanked  her  as  I  fastened  them  in  my  dress ;  they 
looked  lovely  with  the  dew  still  shining  on  them.  It 
was  yet  a  good  «while  to  breakfast,  but  I  turned  to  go 
downstairs,  accepting,  with  a  smile  at  the  newness  of  such 
services,  the  dainty  handkerchief  that  Kitty  shook  out 
for  me. 

The  fresh  morning  breeze  swept  softly  through  the  wide 
hall  as  I  descended  the  stairs.  Summer  had  come  in  and 
taken  the  gloomy  old  place  by  storm.  A  pyramid  of  flowers 
stood  on  the  dark  oak  table  in  the  centre,  a  mocking-bird  in 
its  gay  cage  hung  at  one  end,  and  over  the  cold  marble 
pavement  the  sunshine  was  creeping  fast.  The  house  was  so 
quiet,  that  I  could  almost  fancy  I  was  alone  in  it,  and  cross- 
ing  the  hall,  I  went  up  to  the  library  door ;  but  a  cowardly 
irresolution  made  me  turn  away,  and  pass  on  to  the  nortb 


RUT  LEDGE. 

'loor  of  the  hall,  which,  as  well  as  the  front  one,  stood  wide 
open.  The  broad  fields  stretched  far  away  June-like  and 
lovely  in  the  sunshine ;  the  hedges  and  trees  were  in  such 
luxuriant  leaf,  that  they  quite  hid  the  stables  and  outhouses 
on  the  left  that  last  fall  had  been  so  prominent  in  the  land 
scape.  Looking  from  the  parlor  windows,  there  was  the 
same  view  of  the  lake  that  I  had  from  my  room.  The  mists 
were  rolling  up  from  its  fair  bosom,  and  the  foliage  that 
crowned  its  banks  was  of  the  freshest  and  glossiest  green. 
The  dew  was  glittering  on  the  lawn,  early  birds  twittered 
and  sang  in  the  branches  overhead,  and  on  the  breeze  came 
the  rich  perfume  of  the  roses  that  climbed  from  pillar  to 
pillar  of  the  piazza.  Rutledge  had  fulfilled  my  anticipations; 
in  my  weary,  longing  day-dreams,  I  had  never  pictured  any 
thing  fairer  than  this. 

It  was  with  a  half-defined  feeling  of  curiosity  that  I  wan 
dered  through  the  large  parlors,  furnished  in  an  odd  mixture 
of  old-fashioned  splendor  and  modern  elegance.  It  was 
terra,  incognita  to  me ;  I  had  never  entered  these  rooms 
before.  I  could  hardly  understand  how  the  sunshine  and 
fresh  air  came  to  be  so  much  at  home  in  them,  as  it  seemed 
they  now  were.  It  was  difficult  to  believe  that  these  finely 
furnished,  habitable  looking  apartments,  had  been  closed 
and  unused  for  twenty  years  and  more.  They  had  been 
thoroughly  revised,  no  doubt,  and  the  past  put  to  the  rout ; 
but  they  were  strange  and-'unattractive  to  me,  and  I  turned 
again  to  the  library.  Listening  at  the  door  before  I  pushed 
it  open,  I  entered  noiselessly.  There  was  no  need  of  so 
much  caution ;  this  room  was  as  untenanted  as  its  neighbors, 
save  by  thronging  memories  and  torturing  regrets,  and  they 
entered  with  me. 

Here  at  least  there  was  no  change ;  the  wide  casements 
were  open  to  the  morning,  but  the  white  north  light  seemed 
subdued  and  cold  after  the  sunshine  of  the  other  rooms,  and 
the  dark  panelling  and  frowning  moldings  looked  a  defiance 
»t  the  intruding  summer.  I  liked  it  better  so  •  there  had 


326  RUT  LEDGE. 

been  change  enough  without  this  last  stronghold  of  me 
mory  being  invaded. 

Every  article  of  furniture  in  the  room — the  table,  with  its 
pile  of  papers  at  one  end  and  books  at  the  other,  the  fami 
liar  paper-cutter  lying  by  the  unopened  review,  the  heavy 
bronze  inkstand,  the  graceful  lamp,  the  chair,  pushed  back 
half  a  yard  from  the  table — minded  me  of  the  happy  hours 
that  it  would  have  been  wiser  to  forget.  One  of  the  book 
cases  stood  open,  and  a  book  lay  on  the  table  as  if  recently 
read,  and  a  card  marked  the  reader's  place.  I  took  it  up  in 
voluntarily.  It  was  Sintram,  and  the  words  swam  before 
me  as  I  bent  over  its  familiar  pages.  On  the  card  that  had 
served  for  a  mark,  were  written  a  few  lines  in  a  well  known 
hand ;  and  as  I  raised  my  eyes  from  them  to  the  window,  I 
saw  Mr.  Rutledge  himself  approaching  the  house  from  the 
direction  of  the  stables.  With  a  hurried  movement  I  slipped 
the  card  in  my  pocket,  and  finding  nothing  else  to  replace  it 
with,  pulled  one  of  the  flowers  from  my  bosom,  and  hastily 
shutting  it  between  the  leaves,  threw  the  book  on  the  table, 
and  ran  into  the  haD.  If  I  had  been  a  fugitive  from  justice, 
I  could  not  have  had  a  more  guilty  feeling  than  that  which 
now  impelled  me  to  escape  from  meeting  Mr.  Rutledge. 
But  there  was  no  time  to  get  upstairs ;  he  would  see  me 
from  the  piazza  if  I  went  into  the  parlor ;  and  while  I  stood 
in  the  hall,  trembling  with  eagerness,  and  alarm,  and  irreso 
lution,  my  retreat  was  cut  off  by  the  sudden  appearance  of 
Victor  descending  the  stairs,  who  with  an  exclamation  of 
pleasure,  hurried  toward  me,  and  taking  my  hand  was  bow 
ing  over  it  in  most  devout  fashion,  when  Mr.  Rutledge  en 
tered  the  hall.  Victor  looked  a  little  confused,  and  paused 
hi  the  midst  of  an  elegant  French  speech,  while  the  quick 
crimson  dyed  my  cheeks,  all  of  which  Mr.  Rutledge  ap 
peared  to  ignore,  as,  approaching  us,  he  said  good  morning 
with  his  usual  courtesy  of  manner,  expressed  his  pleasure  in 
the  improvement  apparent  in  my  looks,  and  then  to  Victor  hi» 
astonishment  at  finding  him  a  person  of  such  early  habits. 


ICDTLEDGE.  327 

"  Pray  do  not  give  ine  any  credit  for  getting  up  this  morn 
ing,"  said  Victor  with  a  hasty  wave  of  the  hand.  "  I  assure 
you  I  detest  early  rising  with  my  whole  French  soul,  and 
haven't  seen  a  sun  younger  than  three  hours  old  since  I 
can  remember ;  but,  my  dear  sir,  with  all  homage  to  the 
most  comfortable  of  beds,  and  the  pleasantest  room  I  evei 
occupied  in  my  life,  I  never  passed  such  a  night !  When  at 
last  I  slept,  my  dreams  were  so  frightful  that  I  was  thank 
ful  to  wake,  and  would  have  resorted  to  any  means  to 
have  kept  myself  awake,  if  there  had  been  the.slightest  dan 
ger  of  my  closing  my  eyes  again." 

"  What  room  did  you  occupy  ?"  I  asked. 

"  The  corner  room  at  the  north  end  of  the  hall,  it  is,  I 
think," 

"  It  is-  most  unfortunate,"  said  Mr.  Rutledge,  looking  a 
little  annoyed.  "  Are  you  subject  to  wakeful  nights?" 

"Never  remember  such  an  occurrence  before,"  he  re 
turned.  "  I  have  enjoyed  the  plebeian  luxury  of  sound  sleep 
all  my  life,  and  so  am  more  at  a  loss  to  account  for  my  ex 
perience  of  last  night." 

"  Were  you  disturbed  by  any  noise — conscious  of  any  one 
moving  in  the  house  ?" 

"  No,  the  house  was  silent,  silent  as  death !  Ma  foi  !  I 
believe  that  was  the  worst  of  it.  If  I  were  superstitious,  I 
should  tell  you  of  the  only  thing  that  interrupted  it ;  but  I 
know  how  credulous  and  absurd  it  would  sound  to  dispas 
sionate  judges,  and  how  I  should  ridicule  anything  of  the 
kind  in  another  person ;  but  this  strange  nightmare  has  taken 
such  possession  of  me,  I  cannot  shake  it  off." 

His  face  expressed  intense  feeling  as  he  spoke,  and  tht 
usual  levity  of  his  manner  was  quite  gone. 

"  What  was  it?"  I  said  earnestly,  and  Mr.  Rutledge  looked 
indeed  so  far  from  ridiculing  his  emotion,  that  Victor  went 
on  rapidly : 

'•  You  will  think  me  a  person  of  imaginative  and  excita 
hie  temperament,  but  I  must  assure  you  to  the  contrary,  and 


328  RTTTLEDGE. 

that  I  never  before  yielded  to  a  superstitious  fancy,  and  have 
always  held  in  great  contempt  all  who  were  influenced  by 
such  follies.  Will  you  believe  me  then,  when  I  tell  you  that 
last  night  I  was  startled  violently  from  my  sleep,  by  a  voice 
that  sounded,  from  its  hollo wness  and  ghastliness,  as  if  it 
came  from  the  fleshless  jaws  of  a  skeleton,  calling  again  and 
again,  in  tones  that  made  my  blood  curdle,  a  familiar  name,  and 
one  that  at  any  time,  I  cannot  hear  without  emotion.  Sleep 
had  nothing  to  do  with  it !  I  was  as  wide  awake  as  I  am 
now.  But  pshaw !"  he  exclaimed,  suddenly  turning,  "  I 
shall  forget  all  about  it  in  an  hour,  and  I  beg  you'll  do  the 
same,"  and  not  giving  either  of  us  time  to  answer,  he  went 
on  in  an  altered  tone :  "  Mr.  Rutledge,  what  a  fine  place  you 
have !  I  have  been  admiring  the  view  from  my  window. 
Have  you  purchased  it  recently  ?  I  don't  remember  to  have 
seen  a  finer  estate  in  America." 

"  It  is  a  valuable  and  well  located  farm,"  answered  Mr. 
Rutledge,  rather  indifferently ;  "  but  farming  is  not  my  spe 
cialty,  and  I  never  should  have  encumbered  myself  volun 
tarily  with  such  a  care,  if  it  had  not  devolved  upon  me  by 
inheritance." 

"  Ah !"  said  Victor  with  a  slight  accent  of  irony,  that 
from  last  night's  conversation  I  was  prepared  for  ;  "  It  was 
then  a  case  of  greatness  thrust,  etc.  But  sir,  it  must  add  a 
great  charm  to  this  already  charming  home,  to  think  that 
it  has  been  the  birth-place  and  family  altar,  as  it  were,  of 
generations  of  your  ancestors  ?  Surely  you  arc  not  insen 
sible  to  such  sentiments  of  pride  and  affection.'' 

"  Associations  of  that  kind,  of  course,  invest  a  place  Avitb 
a  certain  kind  of  interest ;  but  I  cannot  lay  claim  to  as 
much  feeling  on  the  subject  as  perhaps  would  be  becoming 
Like  you,  sir,"  he  said,  with  a  bow,  "  I  have  a  dread  of 
claiming  credit  for  habits  and  feelings  that  I  do  not  possess 
and  entertain." 

Victor  looked  a  little  annoyed  that  he  had  not  succeeded 
in  drawing  out  Mr.  Rutledge's  aristocratic  and  overbear 


EUTLEDGE  329 

ing  sentiments,  and  he  would  not  have  given  up  the  subject, 
had  not  Mr.  Rutledge,  with  a  firm  and  quiet  hand,  put  it 
aside,  and  led  the  way  to  other  topics. 

"  How  is  it,"  he  said  to  me,  "  that  you  have  not  noticed 
your  small  friend  Tigre  ?  He  has  been  at  your  feet  for 
the  last  five  minutes,  looking  most  wistfully  for  a  kind  word." 

I  started  in  confusion  and  surprise,  and  stooping  down, 
covered  the  dog  with  caresses.  The  poor  little  rascal  was 
frantic  with  delight,  springing  up  to  my  face,  and  ejaculat 
ing  his  welcome  in  short  barks  and  low  whines,  tearing 
around  me,  and  then  running  oif  a  little  distance  and  look 
ing  back  enthusiastically. 

"  He  is  evidently  inviting  you  to  another  steeple-chase," 
«aid  Mr.  Rutledge. 

I  blushed  violently  at  the  recollection,  and  wished  Tigre 
anywhere  but  where  he  was. 

"  Have  you  lost  your  interest  in  the  turf,  since  your 
season  in  town,  or  have  other  interests  and  tastes  developed 
themselves  while  it  has  Jain  dormant  ?" 

"  Other  tastes  have  developed  themselves,  I  believe,"  I 
answered. 

"  Break  it  gently  to  Tigre,  I  beg  you  then,  for  I  am  sure 
he  has  been  living  all  winter  on  the  hope  of  another  romp. 
He  does  not  appreciate  the  lapse  of  time,  and  the  changes 
involved,  so  readily  as  his  betters,  you  know." 

"  He  has,  at  least,  the  grace  to  receive  them  more 
kindly,"  I  returned,  stooping  to  pat  him.  "  Tigre,  if  I  am 
too  old  to  run  races,  I  am  not  debarred  as  yet  from  taking 
walks,  I  believe,  and  I  would  propose  that  we  indulge  in 
one.  Mr.  Vieunet,  are  you  too  old  to  be  of  the  party  ?" 

Mr.  Rutledge  turned  shortly  toward  the  library,  Victor 
and  I  passed  out  on  the  piazza,  and,  with  Tigre  in  close 
attendance,  descended  the  broad  steps  to  the  terrace. 

Breakfast  was  nearly  completed  when  we  returned,  and 
the  party  at  the  table  looked  up  in  amazement  aa  wfe 
•altered  the  room. 


330  RTJTLEDGE. 

"  I  shouVd  admire  to  know,"  exclaimed  Ella  Wynkar, 
who  affected  Boston  manners,  and  "  admired "  a  good 
deal,  "  I  should  admire  to  know  where  you  two  have  been ! 
Mr.  Arbuthnot  declares  that  Mr.  Viennet  has  been  up  since 
daybreak ;  and  as  for  yow,"  she  said,  turning  to  me,  "  I 
heard  your  door  shut  hours  ago." 

"  Restrain  your  admiration,  Miss  Wynkar,"  said  Victor, 
as  he  placed  a  chair  for  me.  "  We  have  been  taking  a  short 
turn  on  the  terr.ice  for  the  fresh  air.  I  wonder  you  did  not 
emulate  our  exa.uple." 

"  Terrace,  indeed !"  exclaimed  Phil.  "  I've  been  on  the 
piazza  for  half  an  hour,  and  I'll  take  my  oath  you  weren't 
within  gunshot  of  the  terrace  all  that  time." 

"  Don't  perjure  yourself,  my  good  fellow,"  said  Victor, 
coolly,  "  but  assist  us  to  some  breakfast.  The  terrace  has 
given  us  an  appetite." 

"  How  is  your  headache,  my  dear  ?"  said  my  aunt,  from 
across  the  table. 

"  My  headache,  ma'am  ?  Oh,  I  forgot — I  beg  your 
pardon  ;  it's  better,  thank  you." 

"  How  serious  it  must  have  been  !"  said  Josephine. 
"  Oh !  by  the  way,  Mr.  Rutledge,  it  isn't  worth  while  to 
ask  them  to  join  us  in  our  party  this  morning,  is  it  ?  They 
didn't  ask  us  to  go  with  them." 

Mr.  Rutledge  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  I  think,  Miss 
Josephine,  we  are  safe  in  asking  them ;  they  wouldn't 
accept,  of  course,  and  we  should  save  our  credit,  you 
know." 

"I  would  not  trust  them,  sir.  It's  my  advice  that 
they're  not  asked." 

"Then,"  returned  Mr.  Rutledge,  with  a  low  bow  and 
his  finest  smile,  "  as  with  me  to  hear  is  to  obey,  I  resign  ah1 
thought  of  remonstrance,  and  acquiesce  in  the  decree." 

Josephine  accepted  the  homage  very  graciously,  and  the 
jest  was  kept  up  around  the  table  till  I,  for  one,  was 
heartily  sick  of  it.  No  one  supposed,  however,  that  I 


RUTLEDGE.  331 

would  be  fool  enough  to  take  it  in  earnest ;  but  I  was  just 
such  a  fool ;  and  when,  an  hour  or  two  later,  the  horses 
were  brought  to  the  door,  and  the  scattered  party  sum- 
moned  from  library,  parlor,  billiard-room,  and  garden, 
to  prepare  for  the  drive,  I  was  struggling  with  a  fit  of  ill 
temper  in  my  own  room,  which  resulted  in  my  "  begging  to 
be  excused,"  when  Thomas  came  to  the  door  to  announce 
the  carriage. 

My  refusal  didn't  seem  to  damp  the  spirits  of  the  party 
much.  I  looked  through  the  half  closed  blinds  to  see  them 
start.  Victor  at  the  last  minute  pleaded  a  headache,  and 
"  begged  to  be  excused,"  on  which  occasion  the  captain 
made  one  of  the  jokes  for  which  he  was  justly  famous,  and 
led  off  the  laugh  after  it. 

"  The  pretty  darling's  in  the  sulks,  I  suppose,"  I  heard 
Grace  say;  but  no  one  Avas  at  the  pains  to  resent  or  applaud 
the  remark,  and  I  listened  to  the  departing  carriage-wheels 
and  the  lessening  sound  of  merry  voices  with  anything  but 
a  merry  heart. 

One  never  feels  very  complacent  after  spiting  oneself; 
the  inelegant  describe  the  state  of  feeling  by  the  adjective 
"  small ;"  and  I  was  not  rendered  any  more  comfortable  by 
finding  that  I  had  made  a  prisoner  of  myself  for  the  morn 
ing.  If  Victor  had  only  gone,  as  I  had  anticipated,  I 
should  have  consoled  myself  for  the  loss  of  the  drive  by  a 
nice  ramble  around  the  grounds,  and  down  to  the  stables; 
but  as  it  was,  I  would  not,  for  any  consideration,  have  run 
the  risk  of  encountering  him.  I  heartily  repented  my  walk 
before  breakfast,  and  the  relative  position  it  seemed  to  place 
us  in,  made  worse  by  our  both  remaining  at  home.  Every 
body  and  everything  seemed  to  conspire  to  place  us  toge 
ther,  and  my  pride  and  my  honesty  both  rebelled  against 
such  an  arrangement.  So,  after  listening  to  the  sound  of 
his  steps  pacing  the  terrace,  the  hall,  and  the  piazza  for  a 
full  hour,  I  began  to  find  my  captivity  intolerable,  and 
'/etermined  to  make  a  visit  to  the  housekeeper's  room,  and 


332  RUTLEDGE. 

pay  my  devoirs  to  that  functionary.  Looking  stealthily 
over  the  "balusters,  I  ascertained  that  Victor  was  still  smok 
ing  in  the  hall,  so  I  ran  across  to  the  door  of  Mrs.  Roberts' 
room,  which  was  standing  partly  open,  and  asked  if  I  might 
come  in.  Receiving  permission,  I  entered,  and  did  my  best 
to  appear  amiable  in  Mrs.  Roberts'  eyes.  She  was,  of 
course,  as  stiff  as  anything  human  could  well  be,  but  she 
was  too  busy  to  be  very  ungracious.  This  sudden  influx 
of  visitors  had  startled  her  out  of  the  slow  and  steady 
routine  of  the  last  twenty  years,  and  though,  on  the  whole, 
she  acquitted  herself  well,  it  was  a  very  trying  and  bewild 
ering  position  for  the  old  woman.  I  longed  for  something 
to  do  to  appease  the  self-reproach  I  felt  for  my  bad  temper, 
and  it  struck  me  that  I  couldn't  do  a  more  praiseworthy 
and  disagreeable  thing  than  to  help  Mrs.  Roberts  in  some 
of  the  duties  that  seemed  to  press  so  heavily  upon  her.  So, 
sitting  down  by  her,  I  said  : 

"  Mrs.  Roberts,  you'd  better  let  me  help  you  with  those 
raisins  ;  I  haven't  a  thing  to  do  this  morning." 

"  That's  a  pity,"  said  Mrs.  Roberts,  briefly.  "  In  my  day, 
young  ladies  always  thought  it  most  becoming  to  have  some 
Occupation." 

"  That's  just  my  view  of  the  case,  Mrs.  Roberts,  and  if 
you'll  allow  me,  I'll  have  an  occupation  immediately." 

Sylvie  set  the  huge  bowl  of  raisins  on  the  table,  and  I 
drew  them  toward  me,  saying  she  must  allow  me  to  help 
her  with  them.  Mrs.  Roberts  thought  not ;  it  would  spoil 
my  dress. 

"  Then  I'll  put  an  apron  on." 

She  was  afraid  I  did  not  know  how. 

"  You  can  teach  me,  Mrs.  Roberts  ;"  and  I  began  without 
further  permission.  To  say  that  Mrs.  Roberts  melted  before 
all  this  amiability  would  be  to  say  that  Mrs.  Roberts  had 
ceased  to  be  Mrs.  Roberts.  She  was  a  degree  or  two  less 
gruff,  I  believe,  at  the  end  of  the  long  hour  I  spent  in  her 
service,  in  the  seeding  of  those  wretched  raisins ;  but  thai 


RUTLEDGE.     ' 

was  all,  and  fortunately  I  had  not  expected  more.  I  under 
took  it  as  a  penance,  and  it  did  not  lose  that  character  from 
any  excess  of  kindness  on  her  part. 

After  the  raisins  were  dispatched,  Mrs.  Roberts  applied 
herself  to  the  copying  of  a  recipe  from  an  old  cookery- 
book,  for  which  she  seemed  in  something  of  a  hurry.  Do 
rothy  was  waiting  for  it,  Sylvie  said.  "  You'd  better  let 
me  do  it  for  you,  Mrs.  Roberts,"  I  said,  leaning  over 
her  shoulder.  Mrs.  Roberts  declined,  with  dignity,  for 
some  time,  but  at  last  thoughtfully  slid  the  spectacles  off 
her  nose,  and  seemed  to  deliberate  about  granting  my  re 
quest.  She  was  not  a  very  ready  scribe,  and  she  had  a 
dozen  other  things  to  do,  all  of  which  weighed  with  my  ur 
gency,  and  in  two  minutes  I  was  at  the  desk,  copying  out 
of  a  venerable  cookery-book,  the  receipt  that  Mrs.  Roberts 
indicated.  I  was  in  pretty  engrossing  business,  I  found  one 
duty  succeeded  another  very  regularly ;  Mrs.  Roberts,  I 
saw,  had  determined  to  get  as  much  out  of  me  now  as 
she  could. 

A  dread  of  draughts  was  one  of  her  peculiarities,  so  the 
door  and  the  front  windows  were  closed  against  the  pleasant 
breeze,  and  to  this  I  attribute  it  that  we  were  unconscious 
of  the  return  of  the  riding  party  till  the  door  opened  sud 
denly  and  Mr.  Rutledge  entered. 

"  Mrs.  Roberts,"  he  said,  "  you  are  wanted  below.  Miss 
Churchill  has  hurt  her  ankle  in  getting  out  of  the  carriage, 
and  I  have  come  to  you  for  some  arnica.'* 

Mrs.  Roberts  bustled  over  to  the  medicine  chest,  and, 
taking  the  bottle  of  arnica  and  a  roll  of  linen  in  her  hand, 
hurried  out  of  the  room  ;  while  Mr.  Rutledge,  crossing  over 
to  the  table  where  I  sat,  stood  looking  down  at  me  without 
speaking,  while  I  nervously  went  on  with  my  writing  with 
out  raising  my  eyes. 

"  Why  did  you  not  go  with  us  this  morning  ?"  he  said  at 
last,  sitting  down  by  the  table, 

"  I  didn't  want  to." 


384:  RUTLEDGE. 

"  That  is  a  very  good  reason ;  but  I  think  you  would 
have  done  better  to  have  thwarted  your  inclination  for 
once.  There  are  two  reasons  why  it  would  have  been  wiser 
to  have  gone." 

"  What  is  one  ?"  I  demanded. 

"  One  is  that  your  staying  looked  unamiable,  a-ud  as  if  you 
could  not  take  a  joke." 

"Well,  it  only  looked  as  I  felt.  I  was  unamiable,  and  I 
didn't  like  the  joke.  What  is  the  other  ?" 

"  The  other,  I  am  pretty  sure  to  make  you  angry  by  giv 
ing,  but  I  must  risk  that.  Your  refusing  to  go  looked  very 
much  as  if  you  preferred  another  tete-a-tete,  to  the  society 
of  us  all." 

"  I  cannot  see  that,"  I  said,  looking  up  flushed  and  angry. 
"  When  I  supposed  that  I  was  the  only  member  of  the  party 
who  intended  to  stay  a*  home,  I  cannot  see  how  it  could  be 
inferred  that  I  remained  from  any  such  motive." 

"  I,  for  one,  had  no  'doubt  of  it." 

"  You  are  kind  !"  I  cried.  "  It  is  pleasant  to  feel  I  am  al 
ways  sure  of  one,  at  least,  to  put  the  kindest  construction  on 
what  I  do." 

"  Is  my  niece  accounting  for  her  willfulness  in  staying  at 
home  this  morning?"  said  the  slow,  soft  voice  of  Mrs. 
Churchill,  that  crept  into  my  senses  like  a  subtle  poison, 
and  silenced  the  angry  words  on  my  lips.  "  Are  you  not 
penitent,  ma,  ch^re,"  she  said,  approaching  me,  and  laying 
her  cold  hand  lightly  on  my  hair.  "  Do  you  not  begin  to 
see  how  unwise  such  tempers  are  ?  How  often  must  I  en 
treat  you,  my  love,  to  be  less  hasty  and  suspicious  and  self- 
willed  ?  Though  I  am  not  discouraged  with  these  childish 
faults,  Mr.  Rutledge,"  turning  to  him  apologetically,  "I 
own  they  are  somewhat  trying.  Ever  since  that  unlucky 
night  at  the  Academy  of  Music,  I  have  felt " 

"  Aunt  Edith  !"  I  exclaimed,  with  flashing  eyes,  averting 
my  head  from  her  touch  and  springing  up.  "  Aunt  'Edith, 
that  time  has  never  been  mentioned  between  us  since  you 


KdTLEDGE. 


336 


gave  me  my  reprimand.      I  cannot  understand  why  you 
bring  it  up  now,  and  before  a  stranger !" 

"Mr.  Rutledge  can  hardly  be  called  a  stranger,"  she 
began. 

"  If  not  so  to  you,  remember  he  is  to  me,"  I  interrupted, 

"  However  that  may  be,"  she  went  on,  "  he  was  unluckily 
the  witness  of  that  evening's  errors.  He  saw  the  self-will 
and  temper  that  you  took  no  pains  to  conceal,  and  the  love 
of  admiration  that  led  you  to  a  most  unaccountable  act  of 
imprudence." 

"I  should  think,"  I  returned,  trembling  with  passion, 
"  that  that  time  would  have  no  more  pleasant  memories  for 
you  than  me.  I  should  think  we  might  agree  not  to  stir 
among  its  ashes.  There  may  be  some  smoldering  remorse 
ah've  in  them  yet !" 

For  a  moment,  my  aunt's  face  grew  white,  and  her  eye 
faltered  and  sunk ;  angry  as  I  was,  I  bitterly  repented  the 
stab  I  had  given  her.  Then  she  raised  her  eyes  and  fixed 
them  on  my  face  with  a  stern  and  freezing  look.  I  don't 
know  what  she  said  ;  it  was  too  cruel  to  listen  to.  I  don't 
know  what  I  answered ;  would  that  it  had  no  record  any 
where  ! 

From  that  date,  there  was  no  disguise  between  aunt  and 
niece  of  the  sentiments  they  had  mutually  inspired.  The 
flimsy  gauze  that  reserve  and  decorum  had  raised  between 
them  was  torn  to  fragments  before  that  storm,  and  hence 
forth  there  was  no  pretence  of  an  affection  that  had  never 
existed.  Two  natures  more  utterly  discordant  and  unsym 
pathetic  could  not  well  be  imagined.  There  was  nothing  but 
some  frail  bands  of  duty  and  convenience,  that  had  kept  up 
the  mask  of  sympathy  so  far,  and  then  and  there  they  were 
snapped  irrevocably;  and  the  mask  fell  prone  upon  the 
ground  and  was  trampled  under  foot. 

They  had  better  have  turned  me  houseless  into  the  street 
than  have  turned  me  out  of  their  hearts  in  this  way  ;  in  one 
case,  I  could  have  sought  another  shelter,  and  won  myself 


#36  KUTLEDGE. 

another  home.  In  this,  I  was  driven  out,  burning  with 
anger  and  stung  with  injustice,  from  every  heart  I  had  had 
a  right  to  seek  a  home  in,  and  before  me  lay  a  cold  and  in 
hospitable  world.  Was  the  outcast  or  the  world  to  blame 
for  the  inevitable  result  ?  The  outcast,  nu  doubt ;  outcasts 
always  are. 

"Look — look,  Josephine!"  cried  Grace,  bursting  into 
the  library,  where  most  of  the  party  were  assembled  that 
evening.  Josephine,  with  her  foot  on  the  sofa,  being  the 
nucleus.  "  Ella,  and  Phil,  and  I  have  just  come  from  row 
ing  on  the  lake,  and  see  what  we  found,  up  by  the  pine 
trees  at  the  other  end  of  the  lake,  floating  on  the  water." 

"  What  is  it  ?"  said  Josephine,  languidly ;  "  a  water-lily  ?" 

"  Water-lilies  used  to  be  white  when  I  studied  botany, 
Joseph,  and  this,  you  may  observe,  is  purple." 

"And  morning-glories,  when  I  studied  botany,"  said  Phi], 
"  did  not  grow  on  lakes,  but  in  gardens.  Now,  as  this  was 
discovered  on  the  water,  the  question  naturally  arises,  how, 
by  whom,  and  under  what  circumstances,  did  it  get  there  ?" 

"  And  putting  this  and  that  together,"  said  Ella  Wynkar, 
"  we  think  that  the  young  lady  who  had  morning-glories  in 
her  dress  this  morning,  must  have  taken  a  row  on  the  lake, 
instead  of  a  walk  on  the  terrace." 

"  That  doesn't  follow,"  said  Victor,  "  any  more  than  it 
would  follow  that  Miss  Wynkar  had  visited  the  desert  of 
Sahara,  if  a  straw  hat  similar  to  the  one  she  has  in  her  hand, 
should  be  found  there." 

"  Mr.  Viennet,  you  are  not  sufficiently  calm  for  such  diffi 
cult  reasoning.  The  fact  is  established ;  don't  attempt  to 
controvert  it,"  said  Josephine. 

"  In  any  case,  I  am  entitled  to  the  flower,  I  think,"  he  re 
turned,  taking  it  from  the  table,  and  fastening  it  in  his 
button-hole. 

"  No  one  will  dispute  it  with  you,  I  fancy,"  said  JoseplTine, 
with  a  laugh. 


KUTIBDGE.  33? 

M  You  seem  to  have  marked  your  way  with  morning- 
glories,"  said  Mr.  Rutledge,  who,  sitting  by  the  table,  was 
turning  over  the  leaves  of  a  book.  There  was  another, 
crushed  and  faded,  and  staining  the  leaves  with  its  purple 
blood. 

"  One  can  hardly  believe  they  are  contemporaries,"  said 
Victor,  "  mine  is  so  much  fresher." 

"They  are  the  frailest  and  shortest-lived  of  flowers,"  said 
Mr.  Rutledge,  tossing  the  flower  away.  "  Hardly  worth 
the  passing  admiration  that  their  beauty  excites." 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

"  If  hope  but  deferred  causeth  sickness  of  heart, 
What  sorrow,  to  see  it  forever  depart." 

"  THIS  rain  knocks  the  pic-nic  all  in  the  head,"  said  Phil, 
lounging  into  the  breakfast-room,  "and  everybody's  sure 
of  being  in  a  bad  humor  on  account  of  the  disappointment, 
What  shall  we  all  do  with  ourselves  ?" 

"Play  billiards,  can't  we?"  said  the  captain. 

"  I  hate  billiards,  for  my  part,"  said  Grace,  looking  dis 
mally  out  of  the  window.  "  And  Josephine's  ankle's  too 
bad  to  play,  and  Ellerton  isn't  well  enough,  and  my  pretty 
cousin  there  never  did  anything  she  was  asked  to  yet ;  and 
Mr.  Viennet  consequently  will  refuse,  and  Phil's  too  lazy, 
and  mamma  won't  take  the  trouble,  and  Mr.  Rutledge  has 
letters  to  write ;  so  I  think  you'll  be  at  a  loss  for  anybody 
to  play  with  you,  Captain  McGuffy." 

"  So  it  would  seem,"  said  the  captain,  consoling  himself 
with  some  breakfast.  "  I  can't  see  anything  better  to  be 
done  than  this,  then." 

"  It  is  rather  your  vocation,  I  think,"  returned  Grace. 
"  But  with  the  rest  of  us,  it  is  an  enjoyment  that  at  best 
cannot  last  over  an  hour,  and  there  are  twelve  to  be  got  rid 
of  before  bed-time." 

"It  is  trying,"  said  Josephine.  "And  I've  no  more 
crimson  for  my  sofa-cushion,  and  no  chance  of  matching  it 
nearer  than  Norbury,  I  really  don't  know  what  I  shall  do 
all  day." 

"  If  one  only  had  a  good  novel !"  yawned  Ella  Wynkar. 
"  But  there  isn't  anything  worth  reading  in  the  library.  I 
wonder  Mr.  Rutledge  doesn't  get  some  interesting  books." 

888 


BUTLEDGE.  339 

"  There  he  comes ;  ask  him,"  said  Grace,  maliciously. 

"  No,  I  don't  like  to.  Mr.  Rutledge  is  so  odd,  there's 
no  knowing  how  he  might  take  it." 

Mr.  Rutledge  entered  at  this  moment,  followed  by  Tigre, 
and  Miss  Wynkar,  partly  because  she  was  glad  of  anything 
to  amuse  herself  with,  and  partly  for  the  sake  of  a  pretty 
attitude,  sprung  forward  and  caught  the  dog  in  her  arms. 

"  Take  care !  he's  just  been  out  in  the  rain,"  exclaimed 
Mr.  Rutledge,  but  not  in  time  to  save  the  pretty  morning 
dress  from  Tigre's  muddy  paws ;  and  with  an  exclamation 
of  disgust  she  threw  down  the  dog,  who,  whining  piteously 
from  a  blow  against  the  table,  came  limping  over  to  me. 

"  Poor  fellow !  that  was  a  sudden  reverse,"  said  Victor, 
stooping  to  pat  him.  "  Give  me  your  paw,  my  friend,  and 
accept  my  sympathy." 

Ella  darted  an  angry  look  toward  us,  and,  1  am  certain, 
never  forgave  the  laugh  that  escaped  me. 

"  This  is  a  dull  day,  young  ladies,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Rut- 
ledge,  throwing  himself  into  a  chair.  "  How  shall  we  dk- 
pose  of  it  ?" 

"  Philosophy  to  the  rescue !"  said  Josephine,  with  a 
charming  smile.  "  It  is  only  dull  compared  with  what  you 
had  promised  us." 

"  The  pic-nic  will  hold  good  for  another  day,  we'll  trust. 
In  the  meantime,  what  shall  we  do  to-day  ?" 

"  Who  ever  heard  of  doing  anything  but  growl  on  such  a 
day  as  this  ?"  said  Phil,  leaning  over  Josephine's  chair.  ' 

"  Ladies  wern't  made  for  anything  but  sunshine,  I'm 
certain,"  said  the  captain,  thoughtfully,  over  his  last  cup  of 
coffee. 

Miss  Wynkar  and  the  Misses  Churchill  made  the  ex 
pected  outcry  at  this  speech,  and  Mr.  Rutledge,  after  the 
excitement  had  subsided,  went  on  with  a  proposal  that 
quite  brought  down  the  house.  It  was  to  the  effect  that, 
as  the  gay  people  of  the  neighborhood,  the  Masons  of 
Windy  Hill,  and  the  Emersons  of  Beech  Grove,  had  each 


340  E  U  T  L  E  D  G  E  . 

proposed  something  for  the  general  benefit,  it  seemed  expe 
dient  that  some  entertainment  should  be  got  up  at  Rut- 
ledge.  What  should  it  be?  The  Masons  were  to  have 
tableaux,  and  the  Emersons'  invitations  were  out  for  a  fete 
champetre.  What  was  left  for  them  to  do  ?" 

"  Oh !  a  thousand  things,"  exclaimed  Josephine,  with 
sparkling  eyes.  "  A  ball,  or  private  theatricals,  or  a 
masquerade — anything,  in  fact,  would  be  delightful." 

"  A  plain  ball  would  never  do  after  the  fete  and  tableaux," 
said  Ella  Wynkar,  decidedly. 

"Whatever  you  do,  I  beg,  don't  let  those  simpering 
Mason  girls  get  ahead  of  you,"  suggested  Grace.  "  They've 
been  rehearsing  their  tableaux  for  a  fortnight,  and  they 
mean  to  have  them  perfect." 

"  What  do  you  think  of  theatricals,  then  ?"  said  Mr.  Rut- 
ledge.  "  We  can  send  for  dresses,  etc.,  from  town,  and  wo 
have  plenty  of  time  to  rehearse.  And,  Arbuthnot,  I  know 
you  have  all  the  requisites  for  a  manager,  and  could  bring 
out  a  play  in  excellent  style." 

"  You  will  be  astonished  to  find  the  amount  of  dramatic 
talent  undeveloped  in  this  company,"  exclaimed  Victor. 
"  All  the  improvement  I  can  suggest  is,  that  the  play  repre 
sented  should  be  written  for  the  occasion.  Now,  if  I  might 
be  allowed,  I  should  propose  that  Miss  Wynkar  and  Cap 
tain  McGufly  be  named  to  write  the  play,  and  Ellerton,  as 
the  man  of  the  most  cultivated  literary  taste,  and  soundest 
judgment,  be  appointed  to  revise  and  correct  it.  The  eclat 
of  producing  such  an  entirely  original  play,  you  must  see, 
would  be  immense." 

The  irony  of  his  speech  was  too  broad  for  even  the  Wyn- 
kars  to  miss,  and  Ella  colored  angrily,  while  Ellerton,  who 
was  not  a  proficient  at  repartee,  moved  uneasily  on  his 
chair,  and  looked  very  wretched,  till  Mr.  Rutledge  came  to 
the  rescue  with  a  few  words,  that,  administering  the  keen 
est,  quietest,  politest  possible  reprimand  to  Victor  for  his 
impertinence,  reinstated  the  objects  of  his  ridicule  in  com- 


KUTLEDGE.  341 

placency  again,  and  quite  changed  the  face  of  the  day. 
Victor  bit  his  lip ;  these  two  liked  each  other  less  and  less 
every  day,  it  was  but  too  evident.  Victor's  overbearing 
and  tyrannical  disposition  found  an  incessant  obstacle  to  its 
gratification  in  the  iron  will  and  better  disciplined,  but 
equally  unyielding  character  of  Mr.  Rutledge.  I  tried  in 
vain  to  remove  Victor's  prejudices  against  his  host ;  but 
there  was  an  angry  flash  of  his  eye  whenever  the  subject 
was  mentioned,  that  did  not  encourage  me  to  continue  it. 
And  it  was  equally  impossible  not  to  resent  Mi.  Rutledge's 
misapprehension  of  Victor's  character.  In  everything  he 
misjudged  him,  and,  it  was  evident,  put  down  to  the  worst 
motive  much  that  was  only  hasty  and  ill-judged.  "While 
my  reason  told  me  that  he  was  often  to  blame,  the  injustice 
and  harshness  of  Mr.  Rutledge's  judgment  often  roused  my 
sympathy  in  his  behalf,  and  that  dangerous  sentiment,  pity, 
was  creeping  insensibly  into  my  heart.  He  was,  it  was 
true,  a  man  of  no  religious  principle,  but  I  had  come  to  re 
gard  that  as  the  inevitable  result  of  his  foreign  education, 
and  in  no  way  his  own  fault.  Then  there  was  a  light, 
careless  tone  in  his  conversation,  a  disregard  of  others,  an 
almost  imperceptible  sneer,  that  a  month  ago  I  should  have 
looked  upon  with  alarm  and  distrust.  But  the  subtle  flat 
tery  of  his  devotion,  the  contrast  between  his  manner  and 
that  of  Mr.  Rutledge,  and,  indeed,  of  all  the  others,  had 
melted  away  these  prejudices,  and  now  I  hardly  saw,  and 
only  half  blamed,  the  self-willed  impetuosity  and  impatient 
sneering  of  the  young  foreigner,  who,  there  could  be  no 
doubt,  was  daily  becoming  more  unpopular  among  the  party 
at  Rutledge. 

Our  host  had  never  liked  him ;  Miss  Churchill  could  not 
be  expected  to  continue  her  favor,  now  that  he  took  no 
pains  to  conceal  what  was  the  attraction  for  him  at  Rut- 
ledge  ;  Grace  had  never  cordially  liked  any  one  in  her  life, 
but  Victor  had  been  rather  a  favorite,  till  he  had  put  down 
her  sauciness,  on  one  or  two  occasions,  in  such  a  manner  aa 


342  RUTLEDGE. 

to  make  hei  as  vehement  in  her  dislike  as  lier  lazy  nature 
rendered  her  capable  of  being ;  Ella  Wynkar  hated  him — 
he  laughed  at  her  French,  and  never  omitted  an  opportunity 
of  turning  her  pretensions  into  ridicule  ;  Ellerton  had  for 
merly  been  very  much  infatuated  with  the  young  French 
man,  who  had  carried  all  before  him  in  society^  and  been  so 
general  a  favorite,  but  Ellerton  was  too  tempting  a  subject 
for  Victor's  humor,  and  he  was  very  careless  of  his  popu 
larity  ;  even  with  Phil  and  the  captain  he  was  growing 
indifferent  and  distant.  Mrs.  Churchill  alone  showed  no 
change  in  her  feeling  toward  him ;  he  was  only  acting  the 
part  she  meant  him  to  act,  and  fulfilling  the  design  she  had 
in  inviting  him  to  accompany  us.  These  feelings,  and  their 
causes,  so  apparent  on  a  retrospective  study  of  them,  were, 
of  course,  by  the  restraints  of  good  breeding,  and  the  rela 
tive  positions  of  ah1  parties,  studiously  concealed,  and  only 
to  be  guessed  at  in  unguarded  moments. 

"  You  are  not  going  to  follow  the  dramatic  corps,  I  hope," 
said  Victor,  with  a  curl  of  his  lip,  as  the  party  moved  off  to 
the  library,  to  look  over  some  plays  and  consult  about  the 
proposed  entertainment. 

"  They  would  have  asked  me  if  they  had  wanted  me,  I 
suppose,"  I  answered,  reddening  a  little. 

"  Then,  is  there  any  law  to  prevent  our  staying  where 
we  are  ?"  he  asked,  throwing  himself  back  in  the  deep  win 
dow  seat  opposite  me.  And  there  we  passed  the  live-long 
morning,  Victor  idly  twisting  the  worsteds  of  my  work,  and 
idly  gazing  out  upon  the  storm,  or  in  upon  my  face,  and 
idly  talking  in  his  low,  rich  voice,  and  holding  me,  against 
my  will,  enthralled. 

The  portraits  on  the  walls  looked  down  upon  us  with  a 
dumb  intelligence,  almost  a  warning  sternness ;  the  ram 
tried  to  weary  us  out ;  the  old  clock  struck  the  passing  hours 
distinctly ;  the  sound  of  voices  in  the  library,  after  a  long 
while,  died  away,  and  then  the  party  passed  through  the 
hall  and  into  the  parlor,  and  Josephine's  voice,  it  the  piano 


RUTLEDGE. 

succeeded,  and  then  a  dance,  but  still  we  did  not  move. 
What  was  the  spell  that  kept  me  there,  I  could  not  have 
told.  Whatever  it  was,  it  was  tightening  the  toils  around 
me,  and  shutting  me  off  more  hopelessly  than  ever  from 
all  paths  but  the  one  I  had  almost  involuntarily  taken. 

It  appeared  at  dinner,  that  the  theatricals  were  given  up, 
owing,  principally,  I  could  not  but  suspect,  to  the  want  of 
harmony  that  has  characterized  all  the  attempts  at  private 
theatricals  that  I  have  ever  witnessed,  no  one,  under  any 
circumstances,  having  been  known  to  be  pleased  with  the 
role  assigned  to  him  or  her,  and  all  manner  of  discontent 
prevailing  on  all  sides.  But  Mr.  Rutledge,  with  great  dis 
cretion,  put  it  upon  other  grounds — the  short  time  that 
intervened  for  preparing  them,  etc.  It  was  .agreed  that 
patriotism  and  propriety  both  pointed  to  the  Fourth  of  July 
as  the  appropriate  day,  and  a  bal  masque  was  determined 
on  instead  of  the  theatricals.  It  was  to  be  the  most  delight 
ful  affair.  Mr.  Rutledge  had  promised  to  ask  everybody, 
to  send  to  town  for  dresses,  and  to  have  the  house  so  beau 
tifully  decorated. 

"  Ah  !"  said  Josephine  with  a  ravishing  smile,  "  Mr.  Rut- 
ledge  is  the  best,  the  kindest  of  men." 

Mr.  Rutledge,  starting  from  a  fit  of  abstraction  at  that 
moment,  certainly  did  not  convey  the  idea  of  any  very  exces 
sive  kindness  or  goodness.  The  sternest  frown  contracted 
his  brow,  and  in  the  cold  rigidity  of  his  face,  one  would 
never  have  looked  for  anything  gentle  or  tender,  and  the 
expression  that  succeeded  it  under  the  influence  of  Jose 
phine's  smile,  was  bitter  and  cynical,  even  to  the  most  in 
different  observer. 

Rain-storms  in  June  have  a  way  of  abating  their  violence 
toward  evening,  and  breaking  away  enough  to  let  the  declin 
ing  sun  look  for  half  an  hour  over  the  wet  and  shining  earth, 
and  make  of  the  desolate  place  the  freshest  and  most  beau 
tiful  of  Edens,  cheering  the  silenced  Thirds  into  song,  and 
the  wet  flowers  into  perfume,  and  the  breaking  clouds  into 


3M  R  U  T  L  E  D  G  E  . 

yellow  lustre.  A  whole  fair  sunshiny  day  is  nothing  to  it. 
The  sudden  brilliancy  and  freshness  are  worth  all  the  gloom 
that  have  made  them  so  dazzling.  There  was  not  a  tree  in 
the  park  that  afternoon,  not  a  flower  on  the  lawn,  that  did 
not  shine  and  sparkle  with  a  brightness  it  had  never  worn 
before.  There  was  a  fine  coolness  too,  in  the  fresh  wind, 
soft  and  June-like  as  it  was. 

"  Is  it  too  late  for  a  ride  ?"  asked  Josephine,  stepping  out 
on  the  piazza  where  we  were  all  sitting.     "  A  ride  on  horse 
back  would  be  delightful,  would  it  not  ?" 
"  Delightful !»  echoed  Ella  Wynkar. 
"  It  would  be  a  capital  thing,"  said  Phil,  rising.     "  I  won 
der  how  it  is  about  saddle-horses — are  there  any  fit  for  la 
dies  in  the  stable,  do  you  know  ?" 

"  There  are  only  two  that  would  do  for  us  ladies,  Mr. 
Kutledge  said,"  answered  Josephine,  "  but  several  that  you 
gentlemen  could  ride,  and  I  think  it  would  be  the  nicest 
thing  in  the  world  to  have  a  brisk  canter  this  fine  after 
noon.  What  do  you  say,  Captain  McGufly  ?" 

"  By  all  means,"  responded  the  captain.  "  I  wonder  where 
Mr.  Rutledge  is." 

"  In  the  library,"  said  Grace. 

"  Then,  Miss  Josephine,  you  are  the  proper  person  to  go 
and  ask  his  permission.  We  know  for  whose  sweet  sake  all 
obstacles  are  overcome,  and  if  you  ask,  we  are  sure  of  our 
ride." 

"  Yes,"  said  Ellerton,  who  was  excellent  in  chorus.  "  Yes, 
there  is  no  doubt  he'll  have  the  stables  emptied  in  five  mi 
nutes,  if  you  want  a  ride." 

Phil  bit  his  lip,  as  Josephine,  with  a  very  conscious  look, 
sprang  up,  saying,  "  Absurd !  It's  only  because  you  are 
afraid  to  ask  yourselves  that  you  want  me  to  go."  And 
with  a  coquettish  shrug  of  the  shoulders,  and  a  very  arch 
laugh,  she  ran  through  the  hall  and  disappeared  at  the  libra 
ry  door. 
In  a  few  moments  she  reappeared,  and  accompanied  by 


•RDTLKDGE.  345 

Mr.  Rutledge,  joined  us  on  the  piazza.    There  was  a  sub 
dued  tone  of  triumph  in  her  voice  as  she  said, 

"  The  horses  will  be  at  the  door  in  five  minutes,  good 
people,  not  a  moment  to  be  lost.  Who  is  going  ?" 

"  I  am  sorry,"  said  Mr.  Rutledge,  "  that  there  are  but  two 
horses  fit  for  the  ladies'  use.  There  are  enough,  however, 
for  all  the  gentlemen.  Mr.  Viennet,  you  will  find  that 
chestnut  mare  you  were  admiring  yesterday,  very  good 
under  the  saddle." 

Victor  bowed,  and,  looking  at  me,  said,  "  What  do  you 
ride  ?" 

"  I  do  not  mean  to  ride  this  afternoon,"  I  said  quickly. 

"  Come,  Ella !"  exclaimed  Josephine,  "  it  will  take  us 
some  minutes  to  put  on  our  habits,"  and  the  two  friends 
flew  upstairs. 

Mr.  Rutledge  approaching  me,  said  in  a  low  tone,  "  Will 
you  lend  Madge  to  your  cousin  or  Miss  Wynkar  if  you  do 
not  ride  yourself?" 

"  It  is  a  matter  of  very  small  moment  to  me  who  rides 
Madge,"  I  returned  haughtily.  "  You  cannot  imagine  that 
I  attach  any  serious  meaning  to  the  jest  of  last  fall." 

"  That's  as  you  will,"  he  said,  carelessly  turning 
away. 

I  had  no  desire  to  see  the  equestrians  set  off,  so  going 
into  the  hall  for  my  garden  hat  and  a  light  shawl,  I  was 
stealing  qiiietly  out  at  the  north  door,  when  on  the  thresh 
old  I  met  Mr.  Rutledge  and  Grace,  who  had  come  around 
the  piazza  and  were  just  entering. 

"  Where  are  you  going  ?"  said  that  young  person  inquisi 
tively. 

"  I  have  not  quite  made  up  my  mind,"  I  answered,  trying 
to  pass  her. 

"  You're  going  to  walk,  and  I  have  a  great  mind  to  go 
with  you,"  she  said,  intercepting  my  exit. 

"  You  will  excuse  me  for  saying  I  had  rathor  not  hava 
you,"  I  returned  shortly. 

15* 


K  U  T  L  E  D  G  E  . 

"  Sweet  pet !  Its  temper  don't  improve,"  she  said  pro 
vokingly. 

"  You  are  an  insufferable  child,"  I  exclaimed,  vexed  be 
yond  endurance,  and,  pushing  her  aside,  I  hurried  through 
the  doorway.  But  the  fringe  of  her  shawl  caught  in  the 
bracelet  on  my  arm,  and,  much  against  my  will,  I  had  to 
turn  back  to  release  it.  Grace  enjoyed  my  vexation  un 
speakably,  and  did  not  assist  very  materially  in  unfastening 
the  fringe,  which,  if  the  truth  must  be  told,  was  a  very  dif 
ficult  task  for  my  trembling  and  impatient  fingers.  The 
touch  of  Mr.  Rutledge's  cold,  steady  hand  on  my  arm, 
as  he  stooped  to  help  me,  added  tenfold  to  my  impa 
tience. 

"  Break  it,"  I  exclaimed,  "  you'll  never  be  able  to  untan 
gle  it." 

"  Oh  that  mysterious  bracelet !"  cried  Grace.  "  You'd 
never  tell  me  where  it  came  from." 

"  It  is  a  perfect  torment,"  I  exclaimed,  trying  to  wrench 
the  long  silk  fringe  from  the  links  in  which  it  had  become 
hopelessly  twisted.  "  It  catches  in  everything." 

"  Then  why  do  you  -wear  it,  may  I  ask  ?"  said  Mr.  Rut- 
ledge,  coolly. 

"  Only  because  I  cannot  help  myself." 
"  Can't  I  assist  you  ?"  asked  Victor,  who  had  followed 
me. 

"  Very  possibly,"  said  Mr.  Rutledge.  "  It  is  rather  a 
delicate  affair  and  requires  patience,  more,  I  confess,  than  1 
have  at  command." 

"  And  some  strength.  Can't  you  break  this  thing,  Mr 
Viennet  ?  I  cannot  unclasp  it,  and  it  annoys  me  beyond 
endurance." 

"  I  have  no  doubt  that  Mr.  Viennet  can,"  said  Mr.  Rut- 
•ledge,  laying  the  arm,  bracelet,  and  entangled  fringe  in  Vic 
tor's  hand. 

He  tried  in  vain  for  a  moment  to  disengage  the  fringe  01  • 
unclasp  the  bracelet,  while  Grace  drawled, 


347 

"  I  advise  you  to  hurry,  Mr.  Viennet ;  my  cousin  bites  her 
hp  as  if  she  were  desperately  angry." 

"  I  cannot  break  it,"  said  Victor,  "  without  hurting  you, 
of  course." 

"  No  matter  for  that !  I  am  so  anxious  to  have  it  off, 
that  I  should  not  mind  a  little  pain." 

Victor  shook  his  head.     "  Do  not  ask  me  to  do  it." 

"  Perhaps  I  should  be  less  tender,"  said  Mr.  Rutledge, 
bending  over  it  again,  and  the  frail  links  yielded  instantly 
to  the  vice-like  grasp  of  his  strong  hand.  A  cry  escaped 
me  as  the  bracelet  snapped,  and  fell  on  the  ground  at  my 
feet. 

"  You  are  hurt !"  exclaimed  Victor,  starting  forward  and 
catching  my  hand  over  which  the  blood  from  the  wrist  waa 
trickling. 

"  It  is  nothing,"  I  said,  pulling  it  away,  and  wrapping  my 
shawl  around  it.  "  It  is  only  scratched  a  little." 

"  Not  very  Seep,  I  fancy,"  said  Mr.  Rutledge ;  while 
Grace,  shrugging  her  shoulders,  exclaimed,  as  she  entered 
the  house : 

"  Well !  you  are  the  oddest  set  of  people  !  All  three  of 
you  as  pale  as  ashes,  and  as  much  in  earnest  as  if  it  were  a 
matter  of  life  and  death  !  Mr.  Rutledge,  I  shall  coax  you 
to  tell  me  all  about  it." 

"  About  what  ?"  asked  Mr.  Rutledge,  following  her. 
And  as  I  caught  Grace's  saucy  voice,  and  Mr.  Rutledge's 
quick,  sarcastic  laugh,  as  they  passed  down  the  hall,  my 
very  breath  came  quick  and  short,  under  the  maddening 
pressure  of  a  pain  I  had  never  felt  before.  Pique,  jealousy, 
vexation,  I  had  known  enough  of,  but  this,  that  dashed  all 
other  passions  to  the  dust,  and  held  me  gasping  in  such  ter 
rible  subjection,  was  nearer  to  a  deadly  sin.  It  shot  so 
keen  through  every  vein,  it  burned  so  madly  in  my  brain, 
that  for  a  moment,  pride  arid  reason  were  stunned ;  and, 
regardless  of  Victor's  eyes  fixed  on  my  face,  with  a  low  cry 
of  pain,  I  pressed  my  hand  to  my  forehead,  then  flew  down 


248  K  U  T  L  E  D  G  E  . 

the  dteps,  and  vanished  from  his  sight  in  the  shrubbery 
He  could  hardly  have  followed  me  if  he  had  chosen ;  I  was 
out  of  sight,  of  the  house  before  he  could  have  realized  that 
I  had  left  him.  The  cool,  fresh  wind  in  my  face  only 
allayed  the  pain  enough  to  give  me  fresh  strength  to  fly 
from  what,  alas !  could  not  be  left  behind .  The  still, 
unruffled  expanse  of  the  lake,  as  I  reached  its  banks,  gave 
me  that  sort  of  a  pang  that  it  gives  one  to  wake  up  from  a 
short  troubled  sleep,  when  death  and  trouble  have  come  in 
the  night,  and  find  the  sunshine  flooding  the  room.  It  was 
so  utterly  out  of  tune,  so  calmly  impassive  while  such 
hot  passion  was  raging  in  my  heart — so  smiling  and  indif 
ferent  while  I  was  throbbing  with  such  acute  pain,  that  I 
sprang  away  from  the  sight  of  it,  and  hurried  on  into  the 
woods,  never  pausing  till  I  had  reached  the  pine  grove  at 
the  head  of  the  lake. 

It  was  better  there  ;  the  pine-trees  moan  when  there  is 
no  breath  to  stir  them — sunshine  and  singing-birds  pene 
irate  their  solemn  depths  but  rarely ;  and  at  last  I  stopped} 
panting  and  trembling,  on  a  knoll  that  rose  abruptly  in  the 
midst  of  this  forest  sanctuary.  I  sunk  down  on  the  slippery 
gr«und  at  the  foot  of  a  tall  pine,  and  leaning  my  throbbing 
temples  on  my  hands,  tried  to  think  and  reason. 

Do  the  wild  flowers  and  mountain  herbage  raise  their 
heads  and  meet  the  sunshine  and  shake  off  the  blight,  an 
hour  after  the  burning  lava  has  swept  over  their  frail 
beauty  ?  Thought,  reason,  faith,  were  as  impossible  at  that 
moment  to  me,  as  growth,  and  feeling,  and  verdure  are  to 
them.  I  did  not  think — I  could  not  reason ;  some  hateful 
words  rang  in  my  ears,  and  a  wild,  confused  purpose 
mingled  with  the  chaos  that  passion  had  made  in  my  mind  ; 
but  beyond  that  I  was  incapable  of  thought. 

An  hour,  perhaps,  passed  so  ;  the  sunset  was  fast  fading 
out  of  the  sky,  when  the  sound  of  voices  through  the  woods 
struck  my  ear,  and  listening,  I  recognized  the  tones  of  the 
feturaiug  riding-party.  There  was  a  bridle-path,  I 


if   U   T  L  E  D  tt  E  .  349 

just  below  this  knoli,  through  which  they  were  returning 
from  iSTorbury,  and  springing  up,  I  gathered  my  light 
muslin  dress  about  me,  and  pressing  through  the  thicket 
that  lay  betAveen  it  aul  me,  waited  for  them  to  pass.  A 
low  fence  ran  across  the  ravine,  and  half-kneeling  behind 
this,  I  watched  for  them  with  eager  eyes.  At  last  they 
came,  defiling  past  me  one  by  one,  through  the  narrow 
path,  the  gentlemen  first,  then  Ella  Wynkar,  and  in  a 
moment  after,  Madge  Wildfire's  glossy  head  appeared 
through  the  opening,  so  near  that  I  might  have  patted  her 
arched  neck,  or  felt  the  breath  from  her  dilated  nostrils, 
and  touched  the  gloved  hand  that  held  the  reins  so  tightly 
in  her  impatient  mouth.  Josephine's  dark  cheek  glowed 
with  exercise  and  excitement,  and  as  she  sat,  with  her  head 
half-turned,  in  attention  to  the  low  tones  of  the  horseman 
who  followed  her  closely,  I  could  not  help  acknowledging, 
with  a  sharp  pang,  the  beauty  that  I  had  never  before 
appreciated.  And  her  companion  saw  it  too  ;  his  stern  face 
softened  as  he  watched  the  radiant  smiles  chase  each  other 
over  her  varying  mouth ;  his  eye,  restless  with  an  impatient 
fire,  fell  with  pleasure  on  her  eager,  attentive  face. 

He  was  thinking — how  well  I  knew  it !  A  thousand 
devils  whispered  it  in  my  ear — he  was  thinking,  "  this  face 
is  gentle  and  womanly — it  turns  to  me  for  pleasure — it  is 
bright  and  gay — no  storms  sweep  over  it ;  it  has  never 
repulsed  and  disappointed  me.  Shall  I  end  the  doubt,  and 
say,  it  is  the  face  that  shall  be  the  loadstar  of  my  future^ 
the  sunshi'ne  and  pleasure  of  my  life  ?" 

The  horses  threaded  their  way  daintily  down  the  narrow 
ravine — the  pleasant  voices  died  away  in  the  distance ;  I 
raised  myself  from  my  bending  attitude,  and  with  blanched 
cheeks  and  parted  lips,  strained  my  gaze  to  catch  the  last 
trace  of  them.  If  the  assembled  tribes  of  earth  and  air  had 
been  there  to  see,  I  could  not  have  brought  one  tinge  of 
color  to  my  pallid  face,  nor  taken  the  deadly  stare  out  of 
ruy  eyes,  I  could  only  have  done  as  I  did  now,  when  pud- 


350  RUTLEDGE. 

denly  I  found  I  was  not  alone,  utter  a  faint  exclamation,  and 
turning  sick  and  giddy,  lean  against  the  fence  for  support. 
The  stealthy,  cat-like  tread  of  the  intruder  brought  him  to 
my  side  in  a  moment.  I  knew,  from  the  instant  I  met 
the  glance  of  his  basilisk  eyes,  that  he  had  been  reading  my 
face  to  some  purpose — that  he  knew  the  miserable  story 
written  on  it. 

"You  look  agitated,"  said  Dr.  Hugh,  bending  toward 
me  obsequiously.  "  May  I  ask  if  anything  has  happened  to 
distress  you  ?" 

His  tones  were  so  hateful  that  I  cried  quickly : 

"  No,  nothing  so  much  as  seeing  you ;"  and,  springing 
across  the  low  barriei-,  I  hurried  down  -the  path.  I  knew 
he  was  following  me  stealthily ;  nothing  but  that  fear  would 
have  driven  me  back  to  the  house  again.  The  path  was 
narrow  and  irregular";  other  paths  branched  off  from  it,  and 
before  I  got  within  sight  of  the  lake  again,  I  was  thoroughly 
bewildered,  and  in  the  gathering  twilight,  the  huge  trees 
took  weird  forms,  the  "  paths  grew  dim,"  and  no  familiar 
landmark  appeared  to  guide  me.  Pausing  in  fright  and 
bewilderment,  I  crouched  for  a  moment  behind  a  clump  of 
trees,  and  listened.  I  had  eluded  my  pursuer ;  in  a  second's 
time,  I  heard  his  soft  step  treading  cautiously  and  swiftly 
down  the  path  that  I  had  inadvertently  left.  With  a  sigh 
of  relief,  I  looked  about  me,  and  finding  that  the  lake  was 
just  visible  through  an  opening  in  the  trees,  knew  my 
whereabouts  immediately,  and  only  waited  for  Dr.  Hugh 
to  be  well  out  of  the  way  to  start  across  the  park  toward 
the  house. 

Several  minutes  elapsed  before  I  ventured  to  rise  from 
my  hiding-place ;  listening  again  intently,  I  was  about  to 
spring  from  the  thicket,  and  effect  my  escape  across  the 
park,  when,  with  a  start  of  fear,  I  heard  a  heavy  step  crash 
ing  among  the  underbrush  in  the  direction  from  which  we 
had  come;  a  heavy  step,  and  then  a  pause.  My  heart 
teemed  to  stand  still  as  I  waited  to*  hear  more.  The  next 


UUTLEDGE.  351 

sound  was  a  low  whistle ;  a  long  pause,  and  then  the  signaa 
was  repeated.  No  answer  came  ;  and  with  a  low  and  surly 
oath,  the  new-corner  advanced  nearer  to  where  I  crouched. 
Through  a  gap  in  the  thicket,  I  could  see  him  as  he  ap 
proached,  and  even  by  this  dusky  light,  I  recognized  the 
thickset  figure  and  slouching  gait  of  the  man  whom  Victor 
had  so  wantonly  insulted  on  the  evening  of  our  arrival — of 
whose  enmity  there  could  be  no  reasonable  doubt.  It  was 
not  a  comfortable  thought,  but  certainly  some  evil  purpose 
must  have  brought  him  here ;  and  for  whom,  too,  was  that 
signal  given  ?  It  seemed  almost  incredible  that  such  a 
spirit  of  revenge  should  possess  itself  of  such  a  sluggish, 
low-born  nature ;  yet  I  could  not  doubt  that  it  was  some 
design  of  revenge  that  kept  him  lurking  about  the  neigh 
borhood.  I  knew  that  Victor  would  be  in  peril  if  he  were 
abroad  to-night.  And  it  was  not  comfortable,  either,  to 
remember  that  it  was  my  fault  that  he  had  given  the  in 
sult  ;  for  my  protection  that  he  had  incurred  this  malice. 
How  should  I  ever  forgive  myself  if  any  evil  came  of  it  ? 
Victor  was  my  only  friend  at  Rutledge ;  I  could  not  but 
be  grateful ;  the  recollection  of  a  thousand  kindnesses 
started  up  at  the  thought  of  the  danger  I  had  involved  him 
in,  and  I  almost  forgot  that  now  I  shared  it. 

Motionless  and  breathless,  I  saw  him  pass  within  two  feet 
of  me,  stop,  whistle  again,  and  then,  after  a  pause,  throwing 
himself  at  full  length  on  the  ground,  with  his  face  toward 
the  park,  within  a  few  yards  of  where  I  was,  lie  waiting  for 
I  did  not  dare  to  think  what.  Victor,  I  was  certain,  would 
be  somewhere  about  the  grounds,  watching  for  my  return ; 
this  direction,  sooner  or  later,  he  would  inevitably  take. 
Moment  after  moment  crept  on ;  every  movement  of  the 
stranger — even  his  heavy  breathing — were  as  distinct  as  if 
he  had  been  within  reach  of  my  hand,  and  the  least  motion 
on  my  part — the  faintest  rustle  of  my  dress,  or  of  the 
branches  of  the  thicket — would,  of  course,  be  as  audible  to 
him,  and  most  dangerous  to  nw ;  indeed,  if  he  were  to  turn 


852  BUT  LEDGE. 

this  way,  I  could  hardly  hope  to  escape  detection,  for  m 
light  drapery,  only  half  hid  behind  the  dark  thicket,  would 
inevitably  betray  me.  How  long  this  would  last — how  de 
termined  he  could  be  in  his  vigil — I  dreaded  to  conjecture. 
None  but  Victor  was  likely  to  come  to  my  assistance,  and 
that  was  just  the  very  worst  of  all. 

There  was  still  enough  light  left  in  the  west  to  distinguish, 
as  I  looked  eagerly  that  way,  that  a  figure,  from  the  direc 
tion  of  the  house,  was  crossing  the  lawn  toward  us.  I 
turned  sick  with  fear  as  I  recognized,  bounding  before  the 
rapidly-approaching  walker,  Victor's  constant  companion, 
little  Tigre ;  and  this,  no  doubt,  was  Victor.  I  alone  could 
warn  him  of  the  danger  that  awaited  him ;  but,  faint  and 
almost  paralyzed  with  fear,  I  had  not  strength  nor  courage 
to  stir.  The  villain  beside  me,  less  quick-sighted,  had  not 
yet  discovered  his  advance. 

He  was  not  yet  half-way  across  the  park ;  there  might  be 
time.  I  made  a  desperate  resolve,  and,  clearing  the  copse 
at  one  bound,  flew,  as  only  terror  and  desperation  can 
fly.  I  heard  the  startled  oath  the  man  uttered,  and  the 
cracking  of  the  birch  boughs  as  he  regained  his  feet;  I 
heard  him  spring  forward  in  pursuit,  but  by  that  time  I  was 
out  of  the  wood  and  on  the  lawn,  and  in  another  instant  I 
had  reached  my  goal. 

Catching  his  arm,  I  exclaimed  vehemently,  forgetting 
everything  in  my  terror : 

"Don't  go  near  that  horrid  wood,  Victor!  Come  back, 
as  you  value  your  life !" 

I  was  too  much  terrified  to  await  his  reply;  but,  calling 
to  him  to  follow  me,  I  ran  on  at  the  top  of  my  speed,  and 
never  paused  till  I  had  reached  the  terrace,  and,  sinking 
down  on  the  stone  steps,  I  covered  my  face  with  my  hands, 
panting  and  exhausted.  Raising  my  head  as  I  heard  his 
step  beside  me,  I  began  : 

"  You  don't  know  how  narrow  an  escape  you  have  had  I 
That » 


RUTLEDGE. 

"  You  have  made  a  mistake,"  interrupted  my  companion, 
"It  is  not  Victor." 

With  an  exclamation  of  amazement  and  chagrin,  I  sprung 
from  him  up  the  steps.  I  had  made  a  miserable  mistake, 
indeed ;  it  was  Mr, 


CHAPTER  XXVH. 

**  Bat  'mid  his  mirth,  'twas  often  strange 
How  suddenly  his  cheer  would  change^ 
His  look  o'ercast  and  lower — 

Even  so  'twas  strange  how,  evermore, 
Soon  as  the  passing  pang  was  o'er, 
Forward  he  rushed,  with  double  glee, 
Into  the  stream  of  revelry." 

SCOTT. 

THE  fete  champetre  proved  a  success ;  it  was  a  perfect 
day ;  the  house,  a  very  fine  modern  one,  and  the  grounds, 
had  appeared  to  the  best  advantage  ;  the  dancing  tent  had 
been  just  full  enough,  the  toilettes  lovely,  and  the  whole 
thing  so  well  got  up  and  successful,  that  Josephine  began 
half  to  repent  not  having  decided  upon  such  an  enter 
tainment  for  the  Fourth  instead  of  the  proposed  masque 
rade. 

"  This  is  just  the  place  for  a  fete,"  she  said,  as  we  were 
ah1  sitting  in  the  parlor  next  morning  "  talking  it  over." 
"  This  lawn  is  twice  the  size  of  the  Emersons',  and  this 
piazza,  inclosed  and  decorated,  would  be  the  prettiest  thing 
in  the  world.  Indeed,  there  is  no  doubt  in  my  mind  but 
that  it  would  have  been  an  infinitely  handsomer  afiair  than 
theirs,  if  we  had  decided  upon  a  fete." 

"  It  would  not  have  been  dignified,  Miss  Josephine,"  said 
Mr.  Rutledge,  with  a  smile,  "  to  have  followed  so  closely  in 
their  steps,  and  I  do  not  think  we  need  have  any  fears  for 
the  masquerade." 

"  Not  the  smallest,"  said  Mrs.  Churchill.  "  With  Mr. 
Rutledge  as  leader,  and  Josephine  as  aid-de-camp,  I  am 
certain  there  is  no  such  word  as  fail.  This  absurd  child," 

864 


EUTLEDGB.  355 

*he  continued,  bending  gracefully  over  her  pretty  daughter, 
"  this  absurd  child,  Mr.  Rutledge,  enters  so  with  all  her 
heart  into  whatever  she  undertakes,  that  I  have  to  laugh  at 
her  continually.  She  can  think  of  nothing  now,  but  this 
masquerade,  and  only  this  morning  " 

"  Now,  mamma !"  remonstrated  Josephine. 

"  Only  this  morning,"  her  mother  went  on,  "  she  said  to 
me,  '  I  was  so  worried,  mamma,  I  couldn't  sleep  last  night, 
for  Mr.  Rutledge  has  trusted  to  my  taste  about  the  decora 
tions,  and  if  he  should  be  disappointed,  I  should  be  per 
fectly  miserable.'  Did  you  ever  hear  of  anything  so  silly?" 
she  continued,  with  a  light  caress. 

"  Never,"  said  Mr.  Rutledge,  looking  admiringly  at 
Josephine's  averted  conscious  face.  "  Am  I  so  very  terri 
ble,  then  ?» 

"  No,"  said  Josephine  with  a  pretty  shyness,  "  oh  no ! 
but  then,  you  know— you  see — I  should  be  so  sorry  to  dis. 
appoint  or  displease  you.  I  know  you  wouldn't  say  a  word, 
but  I  should  be  perfectly  miserable  if  you  were  not 
pleased." 

"Where  are  you  going,  Phil?"  asked  Grace,  as  her 
cousin  strode  out  into  the  hall. 

"  Anywhere,  Gracie,"  I  heard  him  say,  under  his  breath. 
"  It  doesn't  make  much  difference  where." 

Poor  Phil !  There  was  a  sharp  pain  at  his  honest  heart, 
I  knew.  I  watched  him  from  the  window,  as  with  hasty 
strides  he  crossed  the  lawn,  and  disappeared  into  the  woods. 
But  Josephine  didn't  see ;  Mr.  Rutledge  was  sketching  a 
plan  for  the  decorations,  and  she  was  leaning  over  the  paper 
with  fixed  attention. 

"If  those  people  are  coining  to  lunch,"  said  Ella 
Wynkar,  getting  up  from  a  tete-a-tete  chat  with  the  cap 
tain,  "  it  is  time  we  were  dressed  to  receive  them.  Come, 
Josephine,  it  would  never  be  forgiven,  if  we  should  not  be 
ready." 

"  Yes,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Rutledge,  starting  up  and  looking 


356  BUTLEDGE. 

at  his  watch,  "  I  had  forgotten  about  that.  They  will  be 
here  in  half  an  hour.  Miss  Josephine,  did  you  ever  effect 
your  toilet  in  half  an  hour,  in  your  life  ?" 

"  You  shall  see !"  cried  Josephine,  dancing  out  of  the 
room.  Mrs.  Churchill  followed,  with  a  laughing  apology 
for  her  daughter's  wild  spirits ;  since  she  had  been  at 
this  delightful  place,  she  had,'  she  declared,  been  like  a 
bird  let  loose. 

"  The  linnet  born  within  the  cage, 
That  never  knew  the  summer  woods," 

I  longed  to  say  to  my  aunt,  would  hardly  know  how  to 
enjoy  them.  The  miserable  prisoner  that  had  spent  all  its 
life,  in  narrow  cramped  limits,  on  the  sill  of  a  city  window, 
hopped  on  a  smooth  perch,  and  eaten  canary-seed  and  loaf- 
sugar  since  its  nativity,  would  hardly  be  at  home  in  wide, 
sunny  fields,  or  "  groves  deep  and  high,"  would  shudder  to 
clasp  with  its  tender  claws  the  rough  bark  of  the  forest 
twigs,  and  would  be  doubtful  of  the  flavor  of  a  wild  straw 
berry,  and  think  twice^  before  it  would  stoop  to  drink  of 
the  roaring  mountain-stream.  It  would,  I  fancy,  before 
nightfall,  creep  miserably  back  to  its  cage,  as  the  fittest, 
safest,  most  comfortable  place  for  its  narrowed  and  timid 
nature. 

"  So !"  said  Victor,  looking  at  me  with  a  curl  on  his 
handsome  lip,  as  the  drawing-room  was  vacated  by  all  but 
ourselves.  "  Are  you  going  to  spend  an  hour  of  this  splen 
did  fresh  morning  in  making  yourself  fine  ?" 

"  Not  if  I  know  myself  intimately !"  I  exclaimed,  cram 
ming  my  work,  thimble,  and  scissors  into  my  workbox,  and 
(springing  up.  "  I  do  not  fancy  devoting  three  hours  to 
those  tiresome  Mason  girls  nor  their  horse-and-dog  brothers. 
I  shall  never  be  missed,  and  I  am  going  to  the  village  for  a 
walk." 

"  Why  to  the  village  ?"  said  Victor,  following  me, 
and  reaching  down  my  flat  hat  from  the  deer's  horns 


RUTLEDGE.  357 


that  it  had  been   decorating   in  the   hall.      "  Why 
you   not  come  to  the  lake  and  let  me  row  you  up  to  the 
pines  ?" 

"  I  ought  to  have  paid  my  devoirs  to  the  housekeeper  at 
the  Parsonage  the  very  day  I  arrived,"  I  answered,  as  we 
descended  the  steps.  "  She  is  a  great  friend  of  mine,  and 
she  will  be  hurt  if  I  neglect  her  any  longer.  Indeed,  it's  a 
very  pleasant  walk,  and  you'll  be  repaid  for  taking  it,  if  we 
should  find  Mr.  Shenstone  at  home.  He  is  so  kind,  and  the 
rery  best  man  in  the  world." 

"  That's  the  clergyman  ?"  said  Victor,  making  a  grim-? 
ace.  "  I  don't  affect  clergymen,  as  a  general  thing,  but  for 
your  sake  I  will  try  to  be  favorably  impressed  ;  your  friends 
I  always  try  to  admire  ;  our  host,  for  instance,  who  just 
passed  down  the  terrace,  without  so  much  as  a  look  toward 
us,  though  he  could  not  possibly  have  avoided  seeing  us. 
Why  do  you  bite  your  lip  ?"  continued  he,  watching  me 
narrowly.  "  I  cannot  learn  the  signs  of  your  face.  Pale 
and  red,  smiling  and  frowning,  like  any  April  day.  There  ! 
what  chord  have  I  touched  now  ?  The  thought  gave  you 
actual  pain." 

"  Nothing  !"  I  exclaimed,  hurriedly.  "  There's  Stephen 
on  the  lawn.  I  want  to  talk  to  him,"  and  I  ran  across  to 
where  he  stood,  leaning  on  his  rake,  watching  us.  While 
I  talked  to  him,  Victor  threw  himself  upon  the  heap  of 
new-cut  hay  at  a  little  distance  from  us,  and  played  with 
Tigre.  I  saw  that  Stephen's  eyes  often  wandered  to  where 
he  lay,  his  hat  off,  the  wind  lifting  the  dark  hair  from  his 
handsome  face. 

"  If  I  might  make  so  bold,"  said  Stephen,  in  a  low  tone, 
as  I  was  turning  away,  "  has  that  young  gentleman  lived 
long  in  this  country  ?" 

"  I  do  not  know,  really,"  I  said,  with  a  laugh.  "  Shall  I 
ask  him,  Stephen  ?" 

"No,  Miss,  I  shouldn't  like  you  to  ask  him;  but  I  should 
like  to  know." 


858  BUT  LEDGE. 

"I'll  find  out  for  you  sometime,"  I  said,  as  I  nodded  a 
good  bye  and  rejoined  Victor. 

It  was,  as  he  said,  a  splendid  day — all  sultriness  dissipated 
fry/the  strong  wind.  We  had  a  beautiful  walk  through  the 
woods,  though  I  couldn't  quite  forget  "  our  rustic  friend," 
as  Victor  called  his  unknown  enemy ;  but  he  made  such  a 
joke  of  it  that  it  was  impossible  to  have  much  feeling  of 
alarm  connected  with  it.  The  village,  however,  he  seemed 
not  to  care  to  visit. 

"  Had  I  not  better  wait  for  you  here  ?"  he  said,  lingering 
as  we  passed  out  of  the  woods  into  the  lane  that  led  to  the 
village. 

"  No,  indeed,"  I  said,  perversely ;  "  if  you  stay  here  I  shall 
go  home  another  way." 

He  laughed,  but  rather  uneasily,  and  folloAved  me. 

I  bent  my  head  so  that  my  hat  hid  my  face  as  we  entered 
the  low  gate  of  the  Parsonage,  for  I  dreaded  Victor's  in 
quiring  eyes  just  then.  I  preceded  him  down  the  little 
path  bordered  with  flowers,  and,  stepping  on  the  porch, 
raised  the  knocker.  We  waited  for  several  minutes,  and 
still  no  answer ;  so,  telling  my  companion  to  follow  me,  I 
passed  on  into  the  study. 

"  What  a  cool,  shady,  pleasant  room  !"  said  Victor,  as  he 
gave  me  a  seat  and  threw  himself  into  another.  "  I  am 
sure  I  could  write  a  sermon  myself  against  the  pomps  and 
vanities  if  I  had  such  a  sweet,  calm-  retreat  to  repose  in 
meantime." 

"  Pshaw !"  he  exclaimed  impatiently,  "  what  do  these  men 
know  of  temptation,  who  have  never  felt  a  passion  stronger 
than  this  summer  wind,  nor  seen  a  rood  beyond  their  own 
study  windows  !  These  calm,  slow  natures,  bred  in  the  re 
tirement  and  quiet  of  the  country^  can  preach,  perhaps  with 
profit,  to  their  humble  flocks ;  but  to  men  who  have  been  in 
the  thick  of  the  fight,  never." 

I  shook  my  head.  "  You  will  not  say  that  after  you  have 
•een  Mr.  Shenstone  ;  but  here  he  comes." 


RUTLEDGE.  359 

The  clergyman  stood  for  a  moment  in  the  door  way  before 
he  entered,  his  tall,  stooping  figure  nearly  filling  it.  I  ad 
vanced  to  meet  him,  and  Victor  rose.  The  room  was  so 
dark  that  at  first  he  did  not  recognize  me,  and,  of  course, 
saw  but  indistinctly  my  companion.  But  as  I  spoke,  he  ex 
tended  his  hand  cordially,  and  gave  us  both  a  kind  reception. 

"  I  have  been  expecting  a  visit  from  you,"  he  said,  sitting 
down  beside  me,  and  speaking  in  the  quiet  tone  that  was 
habitual  with  him,  and  looking  at  me  with  his  kind  smile. 
"  You  have  been  here  some  days,  have  you  not  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir,  and  I've  meant  to  come ;  but  there  has  been 
something  going  on  every  day  that  has  interfered,  and  I 
have  supposed  every  day,  sir,  that  you  would  be  there." 

"  Ah !"  he  said,  with  the  slightest  perceptible  fading  of 
the  smile,  "  I  have  been  so  long  out  of  gay  company  that  I 
should  not  be  at  home  there  now.  The  quiet  of  my  little 
village  suits  me  best." 

I  knew  this  would  be  a  confirmation  of  Victor's  judgment, 
so  I  hurried  on  to  say,  "  But,  sir,  you  sometimes  go  among 
gay  people.  I  am  sure  you  are  often  at  Windy  Hill,  and  at 
the  Emersons,  are  you  not  ?" 

"  Sometimes — oh  !  yes  ;  but  it  seems  different  with  Rut- 
ledge.  It  would  be  to  me,"  he  went  on  in  a  lower  tone, 
"  unspeakably  grating  and  painful  to  see  that  place  throw  • 
off  the  gloom  and  silence  that  it  has  worn  for  twenty  years 
— twenty  years  and  more.  But  you  cannot  be  expected  to 
understand  this.  I  had  forgotten  you  were  nearly  a  child 
as  yet.  You  only  know  regret  and  sorrow  by  name,  I  sup 
pose." 

There  must  have  been  an  involuntary  denial  of  this  on  my 
face,  for  he  looked  at  me  attentively  for  a  moment ;  then,  in 
a  tone  that  had  a  little  sadness  in  it,  he  said  : 

"  But  you  are  older  than  you  were  last  fallv  my  child,  I 
see ;  one  takes  quick  strides  sometimes  toward  maturity 
after  one  has  crossed  the  threshold.  This  little  girl  and  I, 
Mr.  Viennet,  were  very  good  friends  last  year  and  I  hop« 


860  BUTLEDGE. 

that  the  world  has  not  separated  us  quite,  though  it  has 
changed  one  of  us  a  little,  I  fear." 

I  could  not  keep  back  the  sudden  tears  that  rushed  into 
my  eyes ;  the  tone  of  sympathy  so  strange  to  my  ears  exor 
cised  the  evil  tempers  that  had  swayed  me  so  long.  If  it 
had  not  been  for  Victor's  presence,  I  should  have  thrown 
off  the  reserve  and  silence  that  I  had  so  long  maintained  to 
ward  all  around  me,  and  have  saved  myself  perhaps  from 
years  of  misery. 

Only  Mr.  Shenstone's  compassionate  eyes  saw  the  emo 
tion  that  flashed  through  mine ;  murmuring  some  excuse 
about  finding  Mrs.  Arnold,  I  quitted  the  room.  I  found  her 
in  the  apartment  that  had  been  my  sick-room,  busy  as  ever 
with  her  silent,  rapid  needle.  Throwing  my  arms  around 
her  neck,  I  kissed  her  affectionately. 

"  Why  have  you  not  been  before  ?"  she  said,  quietly. 

"  Because  I  haven't  done  anything  right  or  pleasant  since 
I  came,"  I  returned,  with  a  little  bitterness. 

Mrs.  Arnold  shook  her  head.  "  Mr.  Shenstone  would  tell 
you  not  to  let  that  go  on." 

"  Don't !"  I  exclaimed,  with  an  impatient  gesture ;  "  don't 
tell  me  what  I  ought  to  do — don't  talk  to  me  about  my  duty. 
I  am  sick  and  tired  of  it  all.  I  want  to  forget  all  about 
everything  that  makes  me  miserable,  and  only  be  petted  and 
made  much  of,"  and,  throwing  myself  down  on  a  low  stool 
at  her  feet,  I  drew  her  hand  around  my  neck. 

"  You  were  always  willful,"  she  said,  sadly ;  "  but  you 
used  to  like  to  hear  about  your  duty." 

"  I  don't  now ;  I've  got  over  that.  I  shall  never  come 
to  the  Parsonage  if  you  talk  to  me  about  it.  We  don't 
have  time  for  duty  at  Rutledge  now-a-days.  Oh!  Mrs. 
Arnold,  it  seems  like  a  different  place.  Why  don't  you 
come  and  see  how  fine  the  house  looks.  There's  to  be  a 
masquerade  on  the  Fourth.  You  should  come  and  see  how 
beautifully  it  will  be  decorated,  and  how  pretty  all  ou? 
dresses  will  be." 


EUTLEDGE.  361 

The  hand  around  my  neck  was  quickly  withdrawn ;  with 
a  sudden  start,  she  rose  and  walked  nervously  about  the 
room,  the  color  fluttering  in  her  cheeks,  and  her  hand  pass 
ing  rapidly  over  her  smooth,  grey  hair. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  she  said  at  last,  sitting  down  and  trying  tc 
command  herself.  "  I  know  it  is  all  right ;  you  are  young 
and  you  ought  to  enjoy  yourself.  I  hope  you  are  happy 
there." 

"  You  need  not  imagine  that  I  am !"  I  exclaimed  bitterly. 
"  You  may  be  sure  I  have  enough  to  keep  me  down,  and 
make  me  wretched,  gay  as  they  all  are.  But  I'm  not  going 
to  talk  about  it,"  I  said,  interrupting  myself,  "  for  you'll 
begin  to  tell  me  how  I  ought  to  bear  it,  and  that  I  can't 
listen  to  now.  Tell  me  how  the  school  goes  on.  Does 
the  new  teacher  work  well,  and  do  the  children  like 
her  ?" 

"  Very  much,"  said  Mrs.  Arnold,  relapsing  slowly  into 
her  ordinary  manner.  "  I  should  like  you  to  go  with  me 
some  day  to  see  them." 

The  archives  of  the  Parish  School,  and  many  minor  mat 
ters  of  interest,  served  to  occupy  our  tongues,  if  not  our 
minds,  for  the  next  half  hour,  and  it  was  only  the  sudden 
recollection  of  having  left  Mr.  Shenstone  and  Victor,  two 
entire  strangers,  at  each  other's  mercy,  that  brought  an  end 
to  the  interview.  Starting  up,  I  said  : 

"  It  is  time  for  me  to  go.  Come  down,  Mrs.  Arnold,  and 
see  whether  you  think  Mr.  Viennet  as  handsome  as  Kitty 
does." 

She  very  reluctantly  followed  me  downstairs,  and  waited 
in  the  porch  to  see  us,  and  say  good  bye  as  we  should 
pass  out. 

I  found  Victor  and  Mr.  Shenstone  talking.  Victor,  it 
seemed  to  me,  treated  his  entertainer  with  several  degrees 
more  of  reverence  than  I  had  imagined  he  could  either  feel 
or  affect  toward  any  one.  Mr.  Shenstone's  manner  was 
rather  less  tranquil  than  ordinary,  though,  it  struck  tne.  Ho 

ItJ 


362  RUTLEDGE. 

accompanied  us  to  the  door,  and  looked  very  earnestly  at 
Victor  as  we  came  into  the  stronger  light. 

"  I  shall  hope  for  the  pleasure  of  another  visit  before  you 
leave  the  country,  Mr.  Viennet,"  he  said  slowly,  as  we 
parted  at  the  threshold. 

"  I  shall  not  fail  to  do  myself  the  honor,"  returned  Victor, 
in  a  manner  less  French,  and  more  sincere  than  usual, 
bowing  very  low. 

"  Isn't  he  handsome  ?"  I  whispered,  in  a  careless  aside  to 
Mrs.  Arnold,  as  we  passed  her  on  the  porch.  But  to  my 
surprise,  she  had  started  back,  with  the  same  dilated, 
agitated  look  in  her  eyes,  that  she  had  worn  upstairs,  and 
the  fluttering  color  coming  and  going  on  her  face  as  she 
watched  Victor,  while  her  pale  lips  opened,  but  no  sound 
passed  them.  I  stared  in  wonder,  but  she  drew  back 
hastily,  and  disappeared  in  the  house. 

"  You  will  have  a  pleasant  walk,"  said  Mr.  Shenstone, 
thoughtfully,  as  he  watched  us  down  the  path. 

"  I'm  afraid  not,"  muttered  Victor,  between  his  teeth,  as 
at  the  gate  Dr.  Hugh  joined  us  with  a  most  afiable  bow. 
He  proposed  to  accompany  us  on  our  way,  he  said,  if  agree 
able  to  us.  He  was  going  as  far  as  the  Park,  to  see  that 
delicate-looking  young  Mr.  Wyukar,  to  whom  he  had  just 
been  summoned. 

"  Over-eaten  himself,  no  doubt,"  said  Victor,  impatiently. 

"  Ah  ?"  said  the  doctor,  nodding  intelligently,  "  is  that 
his  trouble  ?  I  fancied  as  much.  Your  pale,  cadaverous- 
looking  people  generally  are  the  very  mischief  among  the 
provisions." 

Victor's  lip  curled ;  I  could  see  he  chafed  under  this 
familiarity.  Why  does  he  endure  it,  I  thought.  His 
imperious  temper  brooks  no  annoyance  from  those  around 
him ;  daily  there  is  some  new  evidence  of  his  self-will  and 
determination ;  why  does  he  so  tamely  submit  to  what, 
there  wants  no  penetration  to  see,  is  galling  him  to  dis 
traction. 


RTTTLEDGE. 

It  was  almost  impossible  to  realize  that  this  was  my 
gay,  sparkling  companion  of  an  hour  ago.  Pale  and 
abstracted  he  walked  beside  me,  answering,  at  random, 
the  doctor's  many  questions — gnawing  his  lip  at  the  occa 
sional  familiarities  of  his  manner,  but  offering  no  affront  or 
slight. 

Our  constrained  and  uncomfortable  walk  brought  us  to 
the  house  just  as  the  Masons  were  getting  into  their  carriage. 
The  whole  party  stood  on  the  piazza,  and  the  approach  for 
us  was  anything  but  a  pleasant  thing. 

"  Courage,"  whispered  Victor,  seeing  me  falter  as  every 
eye  turned  toward  us.  "  Be  as  queenly  as  you  can.  You 
had  a  right  to  go  ;  there  was  no  intimation  given  you  that 
there  was  to  be  company  at  lunch.  It  would  be  cowardly 
indeed  to  mind  their  slights." 

Victor  had  touched  the  right  chord ;  the  color  flashed 
back  into  my  cheeks,  and  with  as  queenly  a  step  as  he 
could  have  desired,  I  advanced  to  meet  the  strangers. 

"  You  must  excuse  my  cousin,"  cried  Grace,  interrupting 
our  rather  formal  greetings.  "  She  never  allows  anything 
to  interfere  with  her  rural  tastes,  and  as  she  is  addicted  to 
tete-a-tete  rows  and  lonely  rambles,,  we  are  quite  cut  ofi 
from  her  society." 

The  Misses  Mason  looked  at  me  as  if  they  were  afraid  of 
me,  the  Messrs.  Mason  as  if  they  would  have  been,  if  they 
had  not  been  such  brave  men.  I  do  not  know  exactly 
what  I  said,  it  was  all  a  kind  of  dream,  I  was  so  intensely 
worked  up;  but  whatever  my  answer  was,  it  must  hav« 
been  clever,  and  a  good  retort,  for  Victor's  clear  laugh  rang 
in  the  air,  and  the  young  ladies  tittered,  and  looked  at 
Grace  to  see  how  she  bore  it,  and  the  least  ponderous  of  the 
two  young  gentlemen  slapped  the  captain  on  the  back  with 
a  low : 

"  By  George !  She's  not  to  be  put  down  !  I  like  her 
spirit." 

A  month  ago,  perhaps,  the  interview  that  I  had  to  go 


364  RUTLEDQE. 

through  with  my  aunt  after  the  departure  of  the  guests, 
would  have  made  me  quite  miserable ;  but  now,  it  was 
utterly  powerless.  We  were  openly  at  war,  and  no  hostile 
message  could  alter  the  state  of  affairs.  I  could  have 
laughed  in  her  face,  for  all  the  impression  that  it  made  on 
me,  but  of  course  I  preserved  the  external  respect  I  owed 
her,  and  neither  by  look  nor  word  betrayed  how  indif 
ferent  a  matter  it  was  to  me  whether  she  approved  or 
dissented. 

"  A  word  with  you,  my  friend,"  I  heard  the  doctor  say 
to  Victor,  passing  his  arm  through  his  and  leading  hitn  off 
toward  the  terrace.  Victor  set  his  lips  firmly  together,  and 
his  face  darkened ;  there  was  a  storm  brewing ;  the  wily 
doctor  was  going  too  far,  if  he  did  not  wish  to  feel  the 
wrath  of  it.  For  half  an  hour,  I  watched  them  from  my 
window ;  they  had  gone  to  a  retired  walk  in  the  shrubbery, 
where  only  at  a  certain  turn  I  could  catch  sight  of  them. 
Victor's  face,  whenever  I  could  see  it,  was  white  and  pas 
sionate,  and  his  gestures  showed  that  he  had  dashed  aside 
the  restraint  he  had  set  upon  himself.  His  was  not  an  im 
potent  and  childish  anger  either ;  it  was  the  strong  wrath 
of  a  strong  man,  snared  and  trapped,  exasperated  and  tor 
tured  by  an  enemy  wily  and  powerful,  with  some  secret 
hold  upon  his  victim,  that  gave  his  weakness  and  meanness 
the  strength  of  a  giant.  I  watched,  fascinated  and  terrified^ 
for  every  glimpse  of  the  two  faces,  as  the  two  men  strode 
up  and  down  the  alley.  If  Victor's  tormentor  had  seen  his 
face  as  I  did,  surely  he  would  have  paused.  How  could 
confidence  and  pride  so  blind  a  man  as  to  make  him  insen 
sible  to  the  danger  of  rousing  to  such  a  pitch,  such  a  fierce 
southern  nature  ?  They  had  blinded  him,  however,  foi 
Dr.  Hugh's  face  expressed  nothing  but  cunning  and  triumph, 
guarded  and  subdued  by  habitual  self-control. 

That  night,  as  we  were  separating  for  our  rooms,  Victor 
announced  carelessly  that  his  pleasant  visit  was  nearly  at  an 
end.  He  had  that  day  received  letters  thac  made  it  nece* 


BUT  LEDGE.  365 

saiy  for  him  to  s%il  in  next  week's  steamer,  and  he  should 
have  to  tear  himself  away  from  Rutledge  in  a  day  or  two. 
The  color  went  and  came  in  my  face  as  I  met  Mr.  Rut- 
ledge's  eye ;  Victor  studiously  avoided  looking  at  me,  and 
the  others  were  too  much  absorbed  in  the  announcement  to 
heed  me. 

"  Why,  Victor !"  exclaimed  Phil,  heartily,  stung  perhaps 
with  some  slight  self-reproach  for  his  recent  neglect ;  "  why, 
old  fellow,  we  shan't  know  what  to  do  without  you !  It's 
a  shame  to  break  up  a  pleasant  party  like  this.  Make  it  the 
next  steamer,  and  stay  over  another  week,  and  we'll  all  go 
together." 

"  Do,  I  beg  of  you,  Victor,"  echoed  Ellerton. 

"And  you  couldn't  go  without  that  day's  woodcock 
shooting  we've  been  talking  of,"  said  the  captain.  "The 
law's  up  next  week,  you  know." 

"  And  you've  forgotten  the  masquerade !"  exclaimed 
Josephine. 

"  And  the  Masons'  tableaux !"  cried  Ella. 

"  And  my  cousin's  feelings,"  added  Grace,  slily. 

"  And  what  of  your  own,  my  pretty  Miss  Grace  ?"  said 
Victor,  carrying  the  war  so  abruptly  over  into  her  territory 
that  she  had  no  time  to  collect  her  wits  for  a  retort.  "  My 
own  heart  is  broken  at  the  idea  of  leaving  you.  Are  you 
perfectly  unmoved  at  the  sight  of  my  sorrow?  I  shall 
never  believe  in  woman  again." 

"  I  do  not  know,"  said  Mr.  Rutledge,  "  what  other  in 
ducements  we  can  hold  out  of  sufficient  power  to  detain 
Mr.  Viennet  longer.  If  there  is  anything  so  imperative  as 
he  suggests,  however,  I  imagine  that  our  persuasions  will 
be  thrown  away." 

"  Quite  thrown  away,  sir,  I  regret  to  admit,"  said  Victor, 
with  a  low  and  significant  bow.  "  I  can  enjoy  your  hospi 
tality  no  longer  than  Wednesday  morning." 


CHAPTER 


"An  1  as  the  dove,  to  far  Palmyra  flying 
From  where  her  native  founts  of  Antioch  beam, 
Weary,  exhausted,  longing,  panting,  sighing, 
Lights  sadly  at  the  desert's  bitter  stream, 

"  So  many  a  soul,  o'er  life's  drear  desert  faring, 
Love's  pure,  congenial  spring  unfound,  nnquaffed, 
Suffers  —  recoils  —  then,  thirsty  and  despairing 
Of  what  it  would,  descends,  and  sips  the  nearest  draught." 

"  You  are  cruel,"  said  Victor,  in  a  low  tone,  as  I  followed 
the  rest  of  the  party  into  the  library  after  dinner.  "  Thia 
is  my  last  day,  and  you  will  not  give  me  a  moment." 

"  Who's  for  a  ride  ?  Mr.  Rutledge  wants  to  know,"  said 
Grace,  coming  in  from  the  piazza. 

"  Not  I,  for  one,"  exclaimed  Ella,  throwing  herself  back 
on  the  sofa.  "  I'm  going  to  save  myself  for  this  evening." 

"  And  you,  too,  Josephine,  dear,"  said  her  mother,  "  had 
better  not  tire  yourself  any  more.     You  will  be  perfectly. 
fagged  if  you  go  to  drive,  and  you  want  to  keep  yourself 
fresh  for  the  Masons." 

"  Aren't  you  made  of  sterner  stuff?"  whispered  Victor. 
"  Aren't  you  equal  to  a  drive  and  a  party  in  the  same 
twenty-four  hours  ?  It  is  heavy  work,  I  know,  but  your 
constitution  seems  a  good  one." 

"  I  think  I'll  venture,"  I  said,  following  Grace  into  the 
hall.  "  There's  Kitty  on  the  stairs.  Mr.  Viennct,  tell  her 
to  bring  me  my  bonnet,  please." 

Kitty  was  only  too  glad  to  obey  Mr.  Viennet's  orders  at 
any  time,  and  she  flew  to  get  my  things. 

"  Get  mine  at  the  same  time,  young  woman,"  drawled 
Grace. 

866 


BTTTLED6E.  367 

Before  Kitty  had  returned  from  her  double  errand,  the 
horses  were  at  the  door. 

"  Our  friends,  the  bays,"  said  Victor.  "But  I  think  our 
host  means  to  drive  them  himself.  He  has  the  reins  in  his 
hands." 

"Are  these  aU  your  recruits,  Miss  Grace?"  said  Mr. 
Rutledge. 

"  Yes.  Josephine  and  Ella  are  afraid  of  their  complexions, 
or  their  tempers,  or  something,  and  won't  come,  and  I  can't 
find  Captain  McGuffy  or  Phil." 

Victor  stood  ready  to  hand  me  into  the  carriage ;  I  imme 
diately  took  possession  of  the  back  seat. 

"  This  is  a  very  selfish  arrangement,"  said  Victor,  discon 
tentedly,  as  Grace  was  about  to  follow  me.  "  Miss  Grace, 
you'd  have  a  much  better  view  of  the  country  up  there 
beside  Mr.  Rutledge." 

"  And  Grace  might  drive,"  I  added ;  "  she's  so  fond  of 
horses." 

"  As  you  please,"  she  said,  with  a  shrug.  "  I  only  go  for 
ballast  yet  awhile,  I  know,  and  it's  evident  I'm  not  wanted 
here.  Mr.  Rutledge,  do  you  want  me  ?" 

"  Miss  Grace,  my  happiness  will  not  be  complete  till  you 
comply  with  Mr.  Viennet's  disinterested  suggestion ;"  and 
Grace  mounted  up  beside  him. 

I  had  undertaken,  in  that  drive,  more  than  I  was  quite 
equal  to.  I  had  brought  myself  into  the  position  that  I  had 
been  avoiding  all  day,  a  tete-a-tete  of  the  most  unequivocal 
kind  with  a  man  whose  devotion  it  was  impossible  to 
ignore,  and  I  had  gone  too  far  to  retract  entirely.  It  was 
cruel  to  treat  him  with  coldness,  now  that  we  were  on  the 
eve  of  a  long  separation,  and  to  repel  with  indifference  the 
tenderness  that  shone  in  his  eloquent  eyes  and  faltered  in 
his  low  tones.  Our  companions  left  us  entirely  to  ourselves; 
my  awkward  attempts  to  draw  them  into  a  general  conver 
sation  were  all  frustrated  by  Mr.  Rutledge's  cool  indiffe- 
*ence,  and  Grace's  cool  impertinence. 


368  K  D  T  L  E  1)  G  B  . 

The  only  time  that  Mr.  Rutledge  addressed  a  single 
remark  voluntarily  to  me,  was  on  our  way  home.  We  had 
driven  around  by  Norbury,  and  were  returning  by  way  of 
the  post-office.  Suddenly  drawing  the  reins,  Mr.  Rutledge 
stopped  for  an  instant  on  the  brow  of  the  hill. 

"  Do  you  remember  this  ?"  he  said,  abruptly,  turning  to 
me,  and  fixing  his  eyes  on  my  face. 

Remember  it  ?  My  cheek  was  crimson  with  the  recollec 
tion  then ;  the  scene  would  never  fade  but  with  life  and 
memory.  It  was  just  here,  that,  in  the  glow  of  the  autumn 
sunset,  he  and  I  had  parted  on  that  ever-to-be-remembered 
evening,  when  my  willfulness  had  led  me  into  such  danger. 
Hemlock  Hollow  lay  dark  and  dense  below  us.  Far  off  at 
the  left,  the  mill  and  bridge  that  had  served  as  a  landmark 
then,  gleamed  in  the  setting  sun.  The  forest  foliage  was 
greener  and  thicker  now,  but  the  picture  was  the  same  ;  I 
could  never  have  got  it  out  of  my  memory  if  I  had  tried ; 
and  yet,  when  Mr.  Rutledge  asked  me  that  sudden  ques 
tion,  a  wicked  lie,  or  as  wicked  a  prevarication,  rose  to  my 
lips. 

"  Yes,  I  think  I  remember  it.  Didn't  we  go  this  way  to 
the  Emersons'  the  day  of  the  fete  ?" 

"  I  think  we  did — yes,"  said  Mr.  Rutledge,  with  an 
almost  imperceptible  compression  of  the  lips,  as,  bending 
forward,  he  startled  the  eager  horses  with  a  galling  lash  of 
the  whip. 

Grace  was  quite  white  with  alarm  as  we  reached  the 
village. 

"  Mr.  Rutledge,  why  do  you  drive  so  frightfully  fast  ?  I 
am  terrified  to  death." 

He  drew  the  horses  in  a  little,  and,  looking  down  at  her, 
said: 

"  Were  we  going  fast  ?  I  am  sorry  I  frightened  you ;  lor 
my  part,  I  thought  we  crept." 

He  paused  a  moment  at  the  Parsonage  gate.  Mm 
Arnold  was  in  the  garden ;  Mr.  Rutledge  called  out  to  her 


RUTLEDGE.  36$ 

that  He  had  brought  Mr.  Shenstone's  letters  and  papers, 
but  had  not  time  to  stop  to  see  him.  She  approached 
the  carriage,  looking  so  lady-like  and  attractive,  with  her 
soft,  white  hair  smoothed  plain  under  her  neat  cap,  and 
her  clinging  dark  dress,  that  Victor  said,  involuntarily 
to  me : 

"  What  an  attractive-looking  person !  I  never  saw  a 
gentler  face." 

She  was  quite  absorbed  in  attending  to  the  message  Mr. 
Rutledge  left  for  Mr.  Shenstone,  and  in  her  retiring 
modesty  I  do  not  think  she  ventured  a  look  at  us,  till  Vic 
tor,  who  had  been  watching  her  with  interest,  addressed 
some  remark  to  her.  She  raised  her  eyes  at  the  sound  of 
his  voice  in  a  startled  way,  the  same  fluttering,  frightened 
look  transformed  her  quiet  features,  and  trying  in  vain  to 
command  herself,  she  stammered  some  excuse,  and  turned 
away. 

"  Strange !"  exclaimed  Victor,  as  we  drove  on.  "  Did 
you  notice  the  odd  way  in  which  that  person  looked  at  me, 
both  now  and  the  other  day  ?" 

"  It  is  strange,"  said  Mr.  Rutledge,  thoughtfully.  "  Cap 
you  account  for  it  in  any  way  ?" 

"  In  no  way,  sir.  I  do  not  think  I  ever  enjoyed  the  hap 
piness  of  meeting  her  before  I  visited  this  neighborhood ; 
and  since  my  residence  in  it,  I  cannot  remember  having 
done  anything  to  have  rendered  myself  at  all  an  object  of 
interest  to  her." 

"  Who's  that  bowing  so  graciously  to  you  ?"  interrupted 
Grace. 

"  Oh !  Ellerton's  medical  adviser." 

"  By  the  way,  Mr.  Viennet,"  said  Mr.  Rutledge,  turning 
rather  abruptly  to  him,  "  the  doctor  tells  me  he  is  an  old 
friend  of  yours." 

"  Hardly  a  friend,  if  I  understand  the  term  aright,"  re- 
tiirned  Victor,  changing  color  slightly.  "  I  knew  him 
when  he  was  studying  medicine  in  the  city  two  or  thr«« 

16* 


370  BUTLEDGE. 

years  ago.  1  lost  sight  of  him  entirely  after  that,  and  {he 
renewal  of  our  acquaintance  has  been  attended  with  more 
zest  on  his  part  than  on  mine." 

"  I  believe  he  is  rather  apt  to  presume,"  said  Mr, 
Rutledge,  briefly,  and  there  the  conversation  dropped. 

We  were  rather  a  taciturn  party  for  the  remainder  of 
the  way.  Tea  was  waiting  for  us  on  our  return,  and  after 
it,  Grace  and  I  had  to  make  quite  a  hurried  toilet  for  the 
party,  the  others  being  already  dressed. 

"  Aunt  Edith,  be  kind  enough  to  let  me  accompany  you," 
I  said,  hurriedly,  following  her  into  the  carriage,  as  we  all 
stood,  ready  to  start,  on  the  stone  walk  below  the  piazza. 
Victor,  with  a  look  of  disappointment,  closed  the  door  upon 
Mrs.  Churchill,  Grace,  Ella,  and  myself. 

"  Miss  Josephine,"  I  had  heard  Mr.  Rutledge  say,  "  it  ig 
such  a  lovely  night,  you  will  surely  not  refuse  to  let  me 
drive  you.  It  will  be  infinitely  pleasanter  than  going  in 
the  carriage,  I  assure  you." 

It  was  a  very  long  and  a  very  silent  drive  for  the  inmates 
of  the  carriage,  to  Windy  Hill;  and  when  we  arrived  there, 
we  found  the  gentlemen  of  our  party  awaiting  our  coming 
with  some  impatience.  The  curtain  would  be  raised  in  a 
moment,  Phil  said ;  the  tableaux  had  been  retarded  as  long 
as  possible  on  our  account.  Where  were  Josephine  and 
Mr.  Rutledge  ? 

"  Echo  answers  where,"  said  Grace.  "  Taking  the  long 
est  way,  you  may  be  sure,  and  making  the  most  of  this 
lovely  moonlight." 

Mrs.  Churchill  did  not  seem  very  uneasy,  and  after  a 
little  consultation  in  the  dressing-room,  it  was  decided  that 
we  should  not  wait  for  them,  but  should  all  go  down  to  the 
parlor.  Accordingly  we  descended  the  stairs  and  entered  the 
room  en  masse.  It  was  quite  full,  and  as  they  had  only 
been  waiting  for  our  arrival,  in  a  few  moments  the  curtain 
rose. 

The  tableaux  were  very  fine,  no  doubt ;  there  were  mur- 


rtUTLEDGE.  371 

murs  of  applause  and  exclamations  of  admiration  from  all 
the  company.  All  were  enthusiastically  received,  and  some 
were  encored.  I  tried  to  attend,  but  my  recollection  of 
them  is  only  a  confused  jumble  of  convent  and  harem  scenes, 
trials  of  queenly  personages,  and  signings  of  death  warrants 
and  marriage  contracts ;  Effie  Deans,  and  Rebekah  at  the 
well,  the  eve  of  St.  Bartholomew,  and  the  landing  of  the 
Pilgrims.  I  tried  to  attend,  both  to  the  tableaux  and  to 
Victor's  whispered  conversation,  but  there  was  "  something 
on  my  mind  "  as  Kitty  would  have  said,  too  engrossing  to 
allow  me  to  succeed.  Do  what  I  might,  I  still  found  my 
self  listening  eagerly  for  the  sound  of  carriage  wheels  out 
side.  Victor  noticed  my  abstracted  and  nervous  manner, 
and  turned  away  at  last  with  a  half  sigh. 

The  curtain  rose  and  fell  many  times,  the  audience  ad 
mired,  applauded  and  encored,  with  untiring  enthusiasm, 
the  little  French  clock  above  me  on  the  mantelpiece,  marked 
the  departing  minutes  faithfully,  and  still  they  did  not  come. 
This  wras  as  unlike  Josephine  as  it  was  unlike  Mr.  Rutledge. 
Something  dreadful  had  happened,  I  was  sure ;  something 
that  would  make  the  memory  of  this  night  forever  terrible, 
and  what  a  miserable  mockery  it  was  for  us  all  to  be  laugh 
ing  and  talking  so  thoughtlessly.  Mrs.  Churchill  was  anx 
ious,  I  could  see,  but  she  tried  very  faithfully  to  conceal  it, 
and  laughed  and  turned  off  all  conjectures  about  them  with 
her  usual  skillful  nonchalance.  Phil  had  walked  the  piazza 
as  long  as  he  could  endure  it,  then  throwing  himself  upen 
his  horse,  had  galloped  off  in  the  direction  of  Rutledge. 

At  last  the  parlors  were  cleared  of  all  the  appurtenances 
of  the  tableaux,  and  the  dancing  began.  I  was  standing  by  a 
window  listening— oh,  how  eagerly!— for  the  sound  of  wheels, 
when  Victor  approached  me,  and  asked  for  the  next  dance. 

"  Indeed  you  must  excuse  me,  I  cannot  dance,"  I  said  al 
most  impatiently,  "  ask  somebody  else." 

The  look  with  which  he  turned  away  would  have  cut  m« 
to  the  heart,  if  my  heart  had  not  been  too  selfishly  misera 


372  KTJT  LEDGE. 

ble  to  mind  tho  pain  of  others.  He  did  not  dance,  but  lean, 
ing  against  the  window  opposite  gazed  abstractedly  out. 
The  gay  music  and  merry  voices  grated  perhaps  as  cruelly 
on  his  mood  as  on  mine. 

I  never  had  had  less  the  command  of  myself ;  the  persons 
who  came  up  to  talk  to  me,  could  make  nothing  of  me  ;  1 
could  not  talk,  could  not  find  a  word  of  answer  to  their  ques 
tions.  At  length  a  gentleman  who  had  been  standing  near 
me  for  some  minutes,  said  kindly : 

"  These  rooms  are  too  warm  for  you,  will  you  come  on 
the  piazza  for  a  little  while  ?" 

I  gave  him  a  grateful  look,  and  taking  his  arm,  followed 
nim  out  into  the  fresh  air.  Several  others  were  there  before 
us,  and  accepting  my  cicerone's  oifer  of  a  seat,  I  leaned 
against  the  vine-covered  pillar,  and  looked  intently  down 
the  road  that  led  winding  up  from  the  lodge.  My  compan 
ion  evidently  understood  and  pitied  my  anxiety  and  did  not 
attempt  to  make  me  talk. 

At  last !  there  came  a  distant  sound  of  wheels,  and  as  they 
rapidly  neared  the  house,  I  involuntarily  covered  my  face 
with  my  hands.  What  might  they  bring?  What  news 
might  I  hear  in  another  moment  ? 

"  They  are  safe,"  said  my  companion,  kindly.  "  Look, 
they  are  at  the  door." 

I  looked  up.  Josephine,  with  a  light  laugh,  was  springing 
up  the  steps.  Mr.  Rutledge,  who  had  thrown  the  reins  to  a 
servant,  was  following  her.  Mrs.  Churchill  and  a  group  of 
others  hurried  out  to  meet  them. 

"  My  dear,"  she  exclaimed  hurriedly,  "  what  has  detained 
you  ?  We  have  been  excessively  worried  about  you." 

"  Why,  mamma,"  laughed  the  daughter,  lightly  kissing 
her  mother's  cheek,  "  I  knew  you  would  scold,  and  I  didn't 
mean  to  have  been  so  naughty,  but  you  know  it  was  such  a 
sweet  evening,  and  Mr.  Rutledge  said  that  wild  Hemlock 
Hollow  looked  so  picturesque  by  moonlight,  that  we  couldn't 
reaist  the  temptation  of  going  that  way,  and  after  we  had 


FUTLEDGE 

driven — oh !  I  can't  tell  you  how  far — we  suddenly  came 
upon  a  huge  old  tree  that  had  fallen  across  the  road,  and  over 
it  of  course  we  could  not  get,  and  the  woods  were  so  dense 
on  either  side  that  it  was  impossible  to  get  around  it,  so  the 
only  thing  left  for  us  to  do,  was  to  turn,  and  make  the  best 
of  our  way  back." 

"  I  assure  you,  Mrs.  Churchill,"  said  Mr.  Rutledge,  "  I 
am  very  much  annoyed  at  having  caused  you  this  anxiety. 
You  will  fancy  me  very  careless^  but  it  was  a  contretemps 
I  had  never  dreamed  of." 

The  whole  party  passed  out  of  sight  into  the  hall.  A 
group  who  stood  near  us  and  had  been  watching  the  scene, 
also  moved  on  toward  the  door,  but  as  they  turned  away 
I  caught  the  words  from  one  of  them : 

"  It  looks  very  much  like  it,  and  it  will  be  an  excellent 
thing  on  both  sides  ;  but  I  never  thought  till  lately,  that  he 
would  marry." 

"  Will  you  go  in,"  said  my  companion. 

"  Yes,  if  you  please,"  and  we  followed  the  crowd. 

"  Ah  !  you  look  like  a  different  person,"  he  said,  smiling 
as  we  went  into  the  light.  I  saw  as  we  passed  a  mirror  that 
a  bright  spot  Avas  burning  on  each  cheek,  and  my  eyes  were 
shining  unnaturally.  "  I  could  see  you  were  dreadfully  anx 
ious  about  your  cousin,  and  indeed  I  could  not  wonder  at  it." 

"  For  the  last  time,"  said  Victor  in  a  low  tone  at  my  side, 
"  will  you  dance  with  me  ?" 

I  yielded,  and  in  a  moment  we  were  on  the  floor.  Not 
an  instant  after  that  did  I  stop  to  think.  If  I  had,  my  cheek 
would  have  paled  to  have  found  at  the  mercy  of  what  fierce 
hatred,  resentment  and  jealousy,  my  unguided  soul  then 
was,  and  whither  they  were  hurrying  me.  To  others,  I  was* 
only  a  gay  young  girl,  revelling  in  her  first  flush  of  triumph, 
thoughtless,  innocent  and  happy.  God  help  all  such  inno 
cence  and  happiness ! 

It  was  the  last  dance ;  the  carriage  was  already  at  th« 
door.  Mrs.  Churchill  had  limited  us  to  five  minutes  more 


374  JBUTLEDGE. 

two  or  three  were  contending  for  my  hand.  Victor  had 
hung  around  me  all  the  evening,  and  I  caught  a  gleam  of  his 
sad,  expressive  eyes.  Josephine,  on  Mr.  Rutledge's  arm, 
passed  us  at  the  moment.  Turning  toward  Victor,  I  said 
to  the  others  with  a  smile,  "  Mr.  Viennet  says  this  will  be 
his  last  dance  in  America.  I  think  I  must  give  it  to 
him." 

A  flash  of  hope  lighted  up  his  handsome  face.  I  trem 
bled  at  what  I  had  done  as  I  took  my  place  among  the 
dancers.  The  words  that  I  knew  I  must  hear  before  we 
parted,  I  heard  now.  There  was  but  a  moment  for  the 
recital,  but  it  sufficed.  Was  it  that  such  homage  soothed 
my  wounded  pride  ;  or  that,  bewildered  by  this  tempest  of 
emotions,  I  had  mistaken  gratitude  for  tenderness,  kind  re 
gard  for  love  ?  Whatever  may  have  been  my  motive  or 
excuse,  the  fact  remained  the  same.  Before  I  parted  with 
Victor  Viennet  at  the  carriage  door,  I  had  accepted  his 
love,  and  promised  myself  to  him  irrevocably. 

How  hot  and  still  the  night  had  grown !  I  leaned  my 
iorehead  on  the  carriage  window  to  cool  its  burning.  The 
horses  seemed  to  creep  over  the  smooth  road  ;  I  clenched 
my  hands  together  to  quiet  their  impatience.  My  com 
panions,  leaning  back  on  the  cushions,  slept  or  rested.  This 
very  tranquillity  maddened  me,  and,  holding  my  breath  lest 
they  should  know  how  gaspingly  it  came,  I  wished  and 
longed  to  be  alone  once  more.  I  could  not,  did  not  dare  to 
think  till  there  were  bolts  and  bars  between  me  and  tho 
world.  At  last  I  caught  sight  of  the  welcome  lights  of 
Rutledge,  and  almost  before  the  deliberate  horses  had 
stopped  in  front  of  the  house,  I  burst  open  the  carriage 
door,  and  flew  up  the  steps. 

"  Have  the  others  got  home  yet  ?"  I  asked  of  Kitty 
eagerly. 

"  No,  Miss  ;  but  they'll  be  here  in  a  minute.  I  see  the 
lights  of  the  barouche  just  by  the  park  gate." 

The  other  ladies  paused  in  the  parlor  till  the  rest  of  the 


K  U  TL  K  D  G  E .  375 

party  should  arrive  ;  for  me,  I  never  stopped  till  I  was  with« 
in  the  sanctuary  of  my  own  room. 

"  No  matter  for  iindressing  me  to-night,"  I  said  to  Kitty, 
who  had  followed  me.  "  I  can  do  all  that  is  necessary  for 
myself,  and  don't  come  till  I  ring  for  you  in  the  morning;  I 
am  so  tired  I  shall  want  to  rest." 

With  a  look  of  some  disappointment  she  turned  away, 
and  I  slid  the  bolt,  with  a  trembling  hand,  between  me  and 
the  outer  world.  But  not  between  me  and  conscience,  not 
between  me  and  memory,  not  between  me  and  remorse.  I 
nad  thought,  when  once  I  am  alone,  this  misery  will  vent 
itself  in  tears — this  insufferable  pain  will  yield  to  the  relief 
of  solitude  and  quiet.  But  I  did  not  know  with  what  I  had 
to  deal.  I  did  not  estimate  what  foes  I  had  invoked — what 
remorse  and  regret  were  to  be  my  comrades  through  the 
slow  hours  of  that  night. 

With  suicidal  hand,  it  seemed  to  me,  I  had  shut  myself 
out  forever  from  peace,  forever  from  all  chance  of  happiness. 
Nothing  now  but  misery  :  the  past,  a  sin  and  guilt  to  recall ; 
the  future,  weariness  but  to  imagine.  The  promise  I  had 
given  was  to  me  as  irrevocable  and  sacred  as  the  marriage 
vow  itself;  and  self-reproach  only  riveted  the  fetters  more 
hopelessly,  as  I  remembered  the  manly  love  of  which  I  was 
so  unworthy.  To  draw  back  now,  would  but  add  perjury 
to  my  sins,  and  deal  undeserved  misery  to  the  man  I 
nad  deceived.  No,  hypocrisy  became  a  duty  now ;  he 
should  never  know  the  agony  that  I  had  wrestled  with 
when  I  had  first  looked  my  engagement  in  the  face.  He 
should  never  know  how  the  first  hours  of  it  had  been  black 
ened.  But  oh !  plead  repentance,  I  will  bury  this  hateful 
secret  in  my  heart ;  I  will  only  live  to  serve  him ;  I  will 
make  him  happy  ;  I  will  be  a  true  and  faithful  wife. 

True  ?  questioned  a  voice  within  me  ;  and  with  a  misera 
ble  groan  I  hid  my  face,  and  owned  that  I  must  leave  truth 
at  the  threshold  of  this  new  relation.  I  must  enter  it  with 
R  dead  love  in  my  heart,  a  false  vow  on  my  lips. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

**  Alas !  I  have  nor  hope  nor  health, 
Nor  peace  within  nor  calm  around — 
****** 
I  could  lie  down  like  a  tired  child, 
And  weep  away  the  life  of  care 
Which  I  have  borne,  and  yet  must  bear 
Till  death,  like  sleep,  might  steal  on  me." 

SHELLEY. 

"  How  late  you  have  slept,  Miss  !"  said  Kitty,  as  she  hur. 
ried  up  in  answer  to  my  bell.  "  I  have  been  expecting  you 
would  ring  for  the  last  hour.  Did  you  know,  Miss,  they  are 
all  at  breakfast  ?" 

"  It  will  not  take  me  many  minutes,"  I  said,  sitting  down 
for  her  to  braid  my  hair.  Kitty  was  in  a  desperate  hurry 
this  morning ;  her  fingers  trembled  so  she  could  hardly 
manage  the  heavy  braids. 

"  The  other  young  ladies  are  down  some  time  ago,"  sne 
said,  with  a  sharp  look  at  me  in  the  glass.  "  I  suppose  if 
they  were  tired,  they  would  get  up  this  morning  out  of  po 
liteness  to  Mr.Viennet,  as  he  goes  away  at  ten,  and  he  might 
think  rather  hard  of  it  if  they  didn't  take  the  trouble  to 
come  down  in  time  to  say  good  bye  to  him." 

Encouraged,  perhaps,  by  the  color  that  suffused  my  face, 
she  went  on  :  "  As  for  him,  he's  been  up  since  daybreak, 
walking  up  and  down  the  hall,  and  on  the  piazza,  and  start 
ing  and  changing  color  every  time  a  door  opened  or  any 
one  came  on  the  stairs.  I  don't  believe  he  wants  to  go 
away  very  much." 

"  Kitty,  you  are  getting  my  hair  too  low ;  you're  not 
thinking  of  what  you  are  about." 

Kitty  blushed  in  her  turn,  and  said  nothing  more,  but 

376 


BUTLEDGE,  377 

hurried  on  my  toilet.  It  was  soon  completed.  I  would 
thankfully  have  delayed  it,  but  there  was  no  longer  any 
thing  to  wait  for,  no  longer  the  least  excuse,  and,  to  Kitty's 
inexpressible  relief,  I  turned  to  leave  the  room.  Kitty  did 
not  suspect  with  what  a  beating  heart  it  was,  though,  and 
with  what  a  blur  before  my  eyes.  I  hardly  saw  the  familiar 
objects  in  the  hall,  hardly  distinguished  a  word  in  the  hum 
•of  voices  in  the  breakfast-room,  as  I  paused  an  instant  at 
the  threshold.  But  there  was  no  time  for  wavering  now. 
I  pushed  open  the  door  and  entered. 

There  was  a  momentary  hush  on  my  entrance :  Phil  made 
a  place  for  me  beside  him,  saying  : 

"  It  is  something  new  for  you  to  be  late.  Aren't  you  well  ?" 

"  Dissipation  doesn't  agree  with  you,  I  fear,"  said  Mrs 
Churchill.  "  You  look  quite  pale  this  morning." 

"  Mamma !"  exclaimed  Josephine,  in  a  tone  mock-con 
fidential,  just  loud  enough  for  every  one  to  hear.  "  That 
ia  unkind !  Surely,  you  remember  what  happens  to-day  !" 

"  Come,  come,  that's  not  fair,"  said  Phil.  "  I  thought 
you  were  more  considerate,  Joe.  Let  your  cousin  have  her 
breakfast  in  peace." 

"  Don't  let  me  keep  everybody  waiting,"  I  said,  faintly. 

"  "Well,  if  you'll  excuse  us,"  exclaimed  Josephine,  start 
ing  up.  "We  have  ah1  finished."  Then  with  a  wicked 
look,  "  Mr.  Viennet,  you've  been  through  your  breakfast 
some  time.  Don't  you  want  to  take  a  farewell  promenade 
on  the  piazza  ?" 

Mr.  Viennet  bowed,  and  expressed  his  pleasure  in  rather 
a  low  voice. 

"  Mr.  Arbuthnot,  -you're  not  going  to  forsake  me,  are 
you  ?"  I  asked,  as  the  others  rose. 

"  Of  course  not,"  said  Phil.  "  I  am  always  your  very 
good  friend  when  you'll  allow  me  to  be." 

Josephine  little  knew  how  much  I  thanked  her  for  her 
manoeuvre  ;  though  done  from  motives  the  least  amiable,  it 
was  the  kindest  thing  she  could  have  thought  of. 


378  BUTLEDGE. 

"  Don't  take  that  strong  coffee,"  said  Phil,  noticing  how 
my  hand  trembled,  and  substituting  for  it  a  cup  of  tea 
then  putting  everything  within  my  reach,  he  sent  the  servant 
away,  and  began  reading  the  paper  himself. 

If  Phil  Arbuthnot  should  ever  prove  himself  my  worst 
enemy,  I  never  could  forget  the  considerateness  of  that 
morning.  lie  was  tender-hearted  and  kind  as  a  woman,  and 
great,  strong  man  as  he  was,  there  was  a  delicacy  of  feeling 
and  gentleness  about  him,  that  suffered  with  everything 
weak  and  suffering,  and  strove,  at  all  costs,  to  give  aid  and 
comfort.  And  aid  and  comfort,  prompted  by  such  a  heart, 
could  not  fail  to  soothe.  In  his  eyes,  women  were  sacred ; 
their  influence  over  him  unbounded.  If  he  only  had  been 
thrown  with  those  who  could  have  elevated  and  purified, 
instead  of  narrowing  and  lowering  his  nature,  how  noble 
and  large-hearted  a  man  he  might  have  been.  He  had 
sacrificed  his  profession,  his  prospects  in  life,  and  all  that 
elevates  and  nerves  a  man,  to  his  love  for  Josephine.  How 
far  she  accepted  it,  how  she  meant  to  requite  it,  there  is  no 
need  to  say.  I  think  she  liked  him ;  I  think  that  she  felt 
for  him  a  tenderness  that  no  one  else  could  ever  awaken  in 
her  heart.  He  had  been  her  lover  ever  since  they  were 
girl  and  boy  together,  and  in  those  young  days,  perhaps, 
she  had  fancied  that  the  happiest  thing  in  the  world,  would 
be  to  marry  Phil.  But  such  sweet  romance  had  been 
scorched  and  shrivelled  by  the  first  breath  of  the  world. 
Josephine  had  renounced  such  folly  early;  she  was  wise 
and  prudent  beyond  her  years,  and  she  had  been  trained  in 
a  good  school.  Some  wondered  that  Mrs.  Churchill  could 
trust  her  daughter  so  constantly  with  a  man  of  as  pleasing 
an  address  as  Phil ;  cousins  were  so  apt  to  fancy  each 
other.  "  I  have  perfect  confidence  in  Josephine,"  said  Mrs. 
Churchill,  proudly.  It  was  not  misplaced ;  Josephine 
Churchill  might  have  been  trusted  with  Cupid  in  person,  if 
he  had  not  been  a  desirable  parti. 

"  What   time  is  it  ?"  I  asked   of  Phil,  in  a  low  tone, 


BUTLEDGE.  379 

after  I  had  exhausted  every  device  for  prolonging  my 
breakfast. 

"Five  minutes  to  ten,"  he  at.swered,  looking  at  his 
watch.  "  Shall  we  take  a  turn  on  the  piazza,  if  you  have 
finished  ?» 

I  followed  him  to  the  piazza.  "  It  is  too  sunny  for  you," 
he  said,  as  I  screened  my  aching  eyes  from  the  light.  "  The 
parlor  is  pleasanter." 

Ella  was  at  the  piano,  playing  some  light  air  (very  light, 
indeed,  for  the  piano  was  not  her  forte),  and  chatting  with 
Capt.  McGuffy,  who  hung  over  her.  Mrs.  Churchill,  Jose 
phine,  Grace,  Ellerton,  Victor  and  Mr.  Rutledge  were  at 
the  other  end  of  the  room. 

"  We  shall  miss  you  so  much,  Mr.  Viennet,"  Josephine 
was  saying,  in  a  very  charming  tone.  "  Your  place  cannot 
be  filled.  Mr.  Rutledge,  cannot  you  manage  to  have  him 
arrive  at  the  station  a  few  minutes  too  late  ?" 

"  Why  didn't  you  suggest  it  a  little  sooner,  Miss  Jose 
phine  ?"  said  Mr.  Rutledge,  with  a  smile,  as  he  looked  at 
his  watch.  "  I  think  I  hear  the  horses  at  the  door  now. 
Thomas  will  attend  to  your  baggage — don't  trouble  your 
self,  Mr.  Vieanet." 

"  It  is  all  ready,  sir ;  I  have  nothing  to  do  but  make  my 
adieux,  and  such  painful  work  had  better  be  short.  Mrs. 
Churchill,  I  have  many  pleasures  to  remember  during  my 
residence  in  America,  but  none  so  great  as  those  for 
which  I  am  indebted  to  you.  Will  you  accept  my  sincere 
thanks  ?" 

I  had  not  dared  before  to  look  at  him,  but  I  stole  a 
glance  at  his  face  now.  It  was  deadly  pale,  and  showed 
but  too  plainly  the  pain  and  disappointment  that  he  was  try- 
ng  to  conceal.  « 

The  whole  party  now  gathered  round  him ;  his  parting 
with  Josephine  was  very  courteous,  on  her  part  very  gra 
cious  ;  with  Grace  the  same ;  a  little  less  warm  with  Miss  Wyn- 
kar,  perhaps ;  but  no  one  cared  to  revive  old  quarrels  now. 


380  RUTLEBGE. 

When  he  approached  me,  I  gave  him  my  hand,  but  my  eyea 
were  fastened  on  the  ground.  He  held  it  for  one  instant,  then 
dropping  it,  turned  hastily  away. 

"  Mr.  Rutledge,"  he  said,  in  a  voice  that  trembled 
audibly,  despite  his  manly  efforts  to  control  it,  "  I  have  to 
thank  you  for  your  hospitality.  I  shall  not  soon  forget  my 
visit  here." 

Mr.  Rutledge's  manner  had  less  coldness  than  usual  in  it, 
us  he  bade  his  young  guest  good  bye ;  there  was  no  lack  of 
warmth  in  the  adieux  of  the  other  gentlemen. 

And  I,  cruel  and  cowardly,  stood  rooted  to  the  floor ;  I 
was  afraid  to  acknowledge  what  I  had  not  been  afraid  to 
promise  ;  I  was  letting  him  go  without  a  word  of  kindness, 
when  I  might  never  see  him  again;  when  I  was,  in  the  sight 
of  heaven,  affianced  to  him,  when  nothing  could  absolve  me 
from  my  vow,  shrink  and  falter  as  I  might.  He  had  reached 
the  hall,  and  stood  for  an  instant  in  the  doorway  as  I  raised 
my  eyes.  They  met  his  ;  I  sprang  forward  from  the  circle 
where  I  stood. 

"  Victor,  I  am  not  afraid  they  should  know  it  now,"  I 
whispered,  putting  my  hand  in  his. 

I  only  knew  the  misery  I  had  caused  him,  when  I  saw  the 
change  that  came  into  his  face,  the  light  that  hope  lit  in 
his  eyes.  He  had  but  short  grace  to  tell  his  love — a  few 
brief  minutes  before  we  parted,  perhaps  for  many  years,  yet 
nothing  could  have  made  me  more  certain  of  the  depth  and 
ardor  of  it,  than  those  few  moments  did. 

We  walked  once  down  the  hall,  then  slowly  back  again, 

"You  must  go  now,"  I  whispered,  as  we  reached  the 
door.  Good  bye !" 

For  a  moment  he  stood  as  if  it  were  an  effort  rending 
soul  and  body  tg  leave  me ;  he  held  my  hands  tightly  in  his 
own,  then,  bending  forward,  pressed  a  kiss  on  my  forehead, 
and  was  gone. 

It  was  the  seal  of  our  engagement,  that  first  kiss ;  I  stood 
in  the  sight  of  what  was  all  the  world  to  me,  tacitly  ac- 


EUT  LEDGE.  381 

knowledging  what  I  had  done.  I  was  parting  from  the 
lover  to  whom  they  all  fancied  I  was  devoted,  but  it  was 
Bhame,  and  not  love,  that  brought  the  blood  into  my  cheeks 
to  meet  his  first  caress.  I  did  not  move  or  raise  my  eyes 
till  the  sound  of  carriage-wheels  died  away  down  the  avenue. 
Then  the  treacherous  color  receded  slowly  from  my  face, 
and  left  it  white  as  marble.  Conquering  as  best  I  might 
the  giddy  faintness  that  came  over  me,  I  walked  steadily 
into  the  parlor,  where  the  whispering  and  amazed  group 
of  ladies  still  stood.  Not  heeding  Josephine's,  "  Well,  my 
dear,  we  weren't  quite  prepared  for  this !  We  didn't  know 
how  far  things  had  gone,"  I  went  up  to  Mrs.  Churchill  and 
said: 

"  I  should  have  told  you  of  this  before,  Aunt  Edith.  I 
have  accepted  Mr.  Viennet." 

"  I  should  have  been  gratified  by  your  confidence  if  you 
had  chosen  to  bestow  it.  However,  you  have  my  congratu 
lations,"  and  she  gave  me  her  hand,  and  touched  her  lips 
lightly  to  my  forehead. 

"  I  suppose  Ave  must  all  congratulate  you,"  said  Grace, 
with  a  laugh.  "  But,  really,  it  took  me  so  entirely  by  sur 
prise,  that  I  shan't  be  able  to  collect  my  wits  for  an  appro 
priate  speech  under  two  hours." 

"  I  will  excuse  you  from  it  altogether,"  I  said,  turning 
away  to  the  door.  I  stopped  involuntarily  as  I  passed 
Josephine. 

"  If  it  is  a  matter  of  congratulation  at  all,  I  hope  I  have 
yours,  Josephine,"  I  said,  holding  out  my  hand. 

"  Of  course,"  she  returned,  awkwardly,  accepting  my 
hand.  "  Of  course  you  have." 

I  looked  at  her  for  a  moment ;  it  was  so  strange  that  1 
should  be  so  miserable  and  she  so  blessed.  We,  "two 
daughters  of  one  race " — the  same  blood  flowing  in  our 
veins — the  same  woman's  heart  beating  in  our  bosoms — 
why  was  it  that  I  was  forbidden  every  good,  tempted  of  the 
devil,  driven  into  evil,  and  she,  unfeeling  and  light-hearted, 


882  RUTLEDGE. 

smiled  down  at  me  from  her  secure  height  of  happiaess, 
wore  carelessly  the  love  that  I  would  have  died  to  win, 
played  thoughtlessly  with  it  in  my  jealous  sight,  and  made 
a  jest  of  what  was  life  and  death  to  me. 

She  did  not  understand  my  strange  and  wistful  look,  and, 
with  a  smothered  sigh,  I  withdrew  my  gaze,  and  turned 
away.  Perhaps  her  mother  could  have  interpreted  it  bet 
ter;  perhaps,  if  she  had  chosen,  she  could  have  told  her 
daughter  I  was  not  the  happy  fiancee  I  seemed ;  and  per 
haps,  if  she  had  chosen,  she  could  have  told  her  to  whom  I 
owed  the  greater  part  of  what  I  suffered. 

I  mounted  the  stairs  with  a  slow  and  heavy  step ;  Mr. 
Rutledge  passed  me  coming  down.  He  did  not  raise  his 
eyes  nor  look  at  me,  but  in  the  glance  I  had  of  his  face  it 
seemed  to  me  darker  and  moodier  than  ever,  and  his  step 
heavier  and  more  decided.  He  went  toward  the  stables, 
and  in  a  few  minutes  I  heard  his  horse's  hoofs  clattering 
down  the  avenue. 

If  my  head  had  ached  twice  as  niadly  as  it  did,  I  should 
not  have  dared  to  stay  away  from  dinner.  As  I  entered 
the  dining-room,  it  was  with  rather  a  doubtful  feeiing  of 
relief  that  I  found  only  ladies  there.  The  presence  of  the 
gentlemen  always  proved  something  of  a  restraint  upon  the 
vivacious  tongue  of  Grace,  and  Josephine  was  never  in  a 
good  humor  when  there  was  no  one  upon  whom  to  exercise 
her  charms.  Indeed,  the  whole  table  presented  a  signifi 
cant  contrast  to  its  usual  animation.  Toilettes  had  been 
deferred  till  evening,  I  found.  Josephine  and  Ella  took  no 
pains  to  conceal  their  ennui,  and  Grace  revelled  in  imperti 
nence.  The  gentlemen — i.  e.  Phil,  Captain  McGuffy,  and 
EUerton — were  shooting  woodcock,  and  Mr.  Rutledge  had 
gone  off  on  business,  and  it  was  possible,  he  bad  left  word, 
that  he  might  not  return  till  late. 

"  Let's  have  a  glorious  nap,"  said  Josephine,  as  we  left  the 
table.  "  It  will  be  time  enough  to  dress  just  before  tea-time. 
They  will  none  of  them  be  back  sooner  than  eight  o'clock." 


RUTLEDfiE. 

Ella  had  been  asleep  all  the  morning,  but  she  never  ob 
jected  to  a  nap ;  indeed,  I  believe  sleeping  was,  next  to  the 
pleasure  of  dressing  herself,  the  principal  divertissement  of 
her  life.  Josephine  and  Ella  went  to  their  rooms,  Mrs. 
Churchill  followed  them  upstairs,  Grace  ran  off  to  find  "old 
Roberts  "  and  get  the  key  of  the  locked-up  bookcases  in  the 
library,  and  I  was  left  to  myself. 

It  was  a  hot  and  sultry  afternoon ;  not  a  breath  moved 
the  motionless  leaves  in  the  park,  not  a  ripple  stirred  the 
lake  ;  the  insects  hummed  drowsily  in  the  hot,  hazy  air,  the 
declining  sun  abated  neither  heat  nor  power  as  he  neared 
the  horizon,  but  glared  steadily  upon  the  still  parched  earth. 
Too  languid  and  miserable  to  find  a  cooler  place,  I  sat  on 
the  piazza  hour  after  hour,  and  watched  listlessly  the  slowly- 
declining  sun,  the  inanimate  and  sultry  landscape. 

Even  nightfall  brought  no  relief.  The  sun  withdrew  his 
light,  it  is  true :  but  the  sultriness  that  his  reign  had  bred 
continued  to  brood  over  the  earth ;  110  dew  refreshed  it,  no 
moisture  wet  the  thirsty  flowers.  The  stars,  faint  and  dim, 
hardly  shed  a  ray  of  light  through  the  thick  air.  It  was  a 
night  that,  superstition  and  presentiment  whispered,  would 
prompt  dark  deeds.  Under  cover  of  its  weird-like  gloom, 
treachery  and  murder  would  steal  abroad,  and  black  siua 
would  stain  the  souls  of  some  of  the  sons  of  men  before  the 
light  of  day  renewed  the  face  of. the  earth. 

None  of  us  could  help  feeling  the  influence  of  it ;  dis 
pirited  and  languid,  the  whole  party  dragged  through  the 
evening  with  an  unwonted  lack  of  vivacity.  Music  and 
dancing  failed;  the  gentlemen  pleaded  fatigue,  and  the 
ladies  were  very  ready  to  accept  the  excuse,  and  at  an  early 
hour  we  separated  to  our  rooms.  But  I  dreaded  mine ;  I 
dreaded  the  sleepless  hours  that  I  must  count  before  the 
dawning. 

Once  that  night  I  slept,  but  it  was  a  short  sleep,  and 
worse  than  waking.  The  nightmare  of  my  fate  was  less 
horrible  than  the  nightmare  of  my  fancy,  and,  shuddering 


384:  RTTLEDOB. 

with  terror,  I  paced  the  floor  to  drive  away  the  chance  oi 
its  recurrence ;  I  pressed  my  clenched  fingers  tightly  on  mj 
breast  to  drive  away  the  chill  of  that  Phantom  Hand,  thai 
had  frozen  my  very  soul. 

Why  had  that  long-forgotten  terror  come  back  to  haunt 
me  now  ? 


CHAPTER   XXX. 

"Death  is  Bang — and  Vivat  Rex !"  ~TENNYSO«. 

IT  was  late  on  the  following  morning  when  I  entered  the 
breakfhst-room ;  very  fluttering  and  uervous,  I  anticipated 
the  usual  allusions  to  my  pale  looks,  and  Grace's  amiable 
bantering,  but  quite  a  different  scene  from  the  one  I  had 
expected  met  me.  Too  much  absorbed  to  notice  my 
entrance,  the  whole  group  were  clustered  together,  intent 
upon  the  newly-arrived  paper.  They  had  evidently  de 
voured  it,  and  nowr  were  commenting  eagerly  upon  the 
news  it  contained,  and  referring  constantly  to  it.  Only 
Mr.  Rutledge,  with  knit  brow,  leaning  forward  on  the 
table,  seemed  to  note  my  entrance. 

"  I  never  heard  a  more  cool-blooded,  revolting  thing," 
said  Phil. 

"  I  suppose  the  whole  country  is  alive  with  it  now," 
remarked  the  captain.  "  The  wretch  can  hardly  escape 
detection,  thanks  to  the  telegraph,  railroads,  and  police  of 
this  nineteenth  century.  The  news,  no  doubt,  has  spread 
far  and  wide  by  this  time." 

"  It  will  haunt  me  till  the  day  of  my  death  !"  exclaimed 
Josephine.  "  I  never  read  so  horrible  a  murder." 

"  Oh,"  said  Grace,  coolly,  "  it's  only  because  AVC  knew 
him  that  it  seems  so  dreadful.  There  are  just  as  awful 
things  in  the  paper  every  day." 

"  There  has  never  been  anything  in  this  part  of  the 
country  though,  I  fancy,  that  has  caused  as  much  excite 
ment,"  said  Phil.  "  Thomas  tells  me  that  the  furore  in  the 
village  is  intense ;  the  men  do  not  think  of  going  to  their 
work,  but  stand  ID  groups  about,  while  most  of  them  have 


386  K  tJ  T  LEDGE. 

formed  themselves  into  a  sort  of  vigilance  committee,  and 
swear  that  the  murderer  shall  be  tracked.  The  poor 
doctor,  you  know,  was  quite  a  popular  man,  and  such  a 
thing  as  this  is  so  unheard  of,  that  the  country-people  are 
entirely  beside  themselves  about  it." 

"  What  is  it  you  are  talking  about  ?"  I  faltered,  leaning 
on  the  back  of  a  chair  for  support,  and  trying  to  be  self- 
possessed. 

"  Oh  !  Why,  have  you  just  come  down  ?"  exclaimed 
Grace,  delighted  to  find  a  fresh  auditor  for  the  awful  tale 
that  she  seemed  really  to  enjoy  relating.  "  Why,  you  must 
know  that  last  night,  a  man  coming  from  Norbury,  late  in 
the  evening,  discovered  the  body  of  Dr.  Hugh  lying  at  the 
entrance  of  a  wood  about  four  miles  from  the  village, 
stabbed  in  four  or  five  places,  and  quite  cold.  His  horse 
and  gig  were  tied  to  a  tree  close  by,  and  the  footprints  on 
the  ground  beside  where  the  body  was  found,  show  that 
the  poor  wretch  did  not  yield  to  his  murderer  without  a 
desperate  struggle.  His  hands  were  " • 

"  You  are  making  it  unnecessarily  horrible,"  said  Mr. 
Hutledge,  sternly,  and  starting  forward,  placed  a  chair  for 
me,  and  poured  out  a  glass  of  water. 

"  Why,  she's  going  to  faint !"  exclaimed  Ella  Wynkar, 
staring  at  me  with  her  dull,  blue  eyes,  while  Mrs.  Churchill 
came  forward  ejaculating, 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?     Are  you  ill  ?" 

"  It  is  not  at  all  strange  that  she  should  be  shocked  at 
hearing  such  a  thing  so  suddenly,"  answered  Mr.  Rutledge 
for  me.  "  You  must  remember,  Miss  Grace,  we  all  had  it 
more  gradually :  first  my  suspicions,  then  Thomas'  report, 
then  the  morning  paper  ;  which  is  very  different  from 
hearing  it  all  at  a  breath,  and  without  any  warning." 

Mr.  Rutledge  tried  to  divert  them  from  tlxe  theme,  and 
save  me  from  the  faintness  which  his  "juick  eya  detected  at 
each  new  disclosure  or  conjectuze,  but  in  vain.  Nothing 
else  could  be  thought  or  spoken  of.  How  the  murderer 


BUTLEDGE.  387 

should  be  hunted  down,  what  blood-thirsty  and  revengeful 
men  were  already  on  the  track,  how  impossible  was  hia 
escape ;  these  were  the  pleasant  topics  of  the  morning 
Within  those  two  hours  I  learned  more  self-command  than 
all  my  previous  life  had  taught  me,  for  I  had  an  awful  dread 
at  my  heart,  and  I  had  to  listen  to  these  things,  as  if  I  were 
very  indifferent  to  them. 

Phil  said,  for  the  honor  of  the  county,  he  supposed,  Mr. 
Rutledge  would  do  all  in  his  power  to  ferret  the  thing  out ; 
and  Mr.  Rutledge  rather  reluctantly  assented,  and  said  he 
supposed  it  was  his  duty. 

"  And,"  added  the  captain,  "  from  what  you've  said  of 
some  slight  clue  you  thought  you  had  to  guide  you,  I  sup 
pose  you  may  be  of  great  service,  and  it's  every  man's  duty 
to  bring  the  perpetrator  of  such  a  deed  to  justice.  By 
Jove !  I  wish  I  could  help  it  along !" 

"  I  suppose  you  are  right,"  said  Mr.  Rutledge,  with  a 
sigh.  "  I  am  going,  to  ride  over  to  the  court-house  now. 
Thomas,  has  my  horse  been  brought  around?** 

"  He  is  at  the  door  now,  sir,"  said  Thomas. 

Mr.  Rutledge,  with  a  brief  good-morning,  left  the  room, 
and  after  a  moment  in  the  library,  repassed  the  dining-room 
door  with  his  riding-whip  and  hat  in  his  hand. 

I  listened  to  his  retreating  footsteps  in  a  kind  of  night 
mare  ;  I  must  speak  to  him  before  he  started  on  his  cruel 
errand ;  I  must  speak,  and  yet  a  spell  sealed  my  lips,  a 
horrible  tyranny  chained  me  motionless.  That  clue — what 
did  it  mean  ? — why  did  he  look  at  me  so  strangely  ? — I  knew 
but  too  well.  I  heard  him  pass  down  the  hall  slowly  and 
pause  at  the  door ;  in  another  moment  he  would  be  gone. 
I  started  from  the  room. 

"  Mr.  Rutledgo !" 

He  turned  as  I  stood  before  him,  white  and  trembling. 

"  What  is  it  ?"  he  said,  regarding  me  with  a  kind  oi 
compassion.  "What  do  you  want  to  say?" 

UI  want  to  say — I  want  to  ask  you  if  you  have  no  pity-" 


388  RUTLEDGE. 

if  yoiv  have  the  cruelty  to  want  another  murdei — if  there 
is  not  blood  enough  already  shed.  Don't  listen  to  what 
those  men  tell  you,"  I  hurried  on,  "don't  believe  them, 
when  they  say  it  is  your  duty.  It  is  not !  It  is  your  duty 
to  be  merciful.  It  is  your  duty  to  leave  vengeance  to  God. 
It  is  your  duty  to  leave  the  miserable  and  the  sinful  to  His 
justice,  and  not  to  hurry  them  before  man's  !" 

He  looked  down  at  me  with  a  pity  in  his  eyes  that  was 
almost  divine,  "  You  need  not  fear  me,"  he  said,  turning 
from  me  ;  and  descending  the  steps  mounted  his  horse  and 
rode  slowly  away. 

"There  are  a  few  things,"  I  overheard  Kitty  say  to  Fran 
ces  outside  my  door,  "  in  which  I  should  be  glad  if  my  young 
lady  was  more  like  yours.  Now  there  must  be  some  com 
fort  in  dressing  Miss  Josephine,  she  cares  about  things  ;  but 
all  my  work  is  thrown  away,  sometimes  I  think.  My  young 
lady  has  no  heart  for  anything,  never  looks  in  the  glass  after 
I've  taken  all  the  pains  in  the  world  with  her,  and  is  just  as 
likely  to  throw  herself  on  the  bed  after  her  hair  is  fixed  for 
dinner,  as  if  she  had  a  nightcap  on.  For  the  last  two 
days,"  Kitty  \vent  on  in  a  low  tone,  for  Frances  and  she 
were  very  good  friends  now,  "  for  the  last  two  days  she  has 
been  so  miserable,  it  makes  my  heart  ache  to  see  her.  And 
as  for  the  masquerade  to-night !  she  don't  care  that  for  if 
I've  worked  my  fingers  to  the  bone  to  get  her  dress  ready, 
and  like  as  not,  she  won't  stay  downstairs  ten  minutes  after 
she  gets  it  on.  The  whole  house  is  thinking  about  nothing 
else,  everybody  is  in  such  spirits  about  it,'the  young  ladies 
are  just  crazy  with  their  dresses  and  the  fun  they're  going 
to  have,  while  she,  poor  young  thing,  hardly  knows  or  cares 
what  she's  to  wear,  and  stays  moping  in  her  room  all  day 
by  herself." 

"  It's  a  hard  thing  to  have  one's  young  man  away,"  said 
Frances  in  her  soft  voice,  and  with  a  little  sigh  that  told  she 
knew  just  how  hard  it  was.  Kitty  didn't  answer.  I  was 


RU  ILEDGE.  389 

afraid  she  would,  and  would  tell  her  how  inexpl  ^able  she 
found  her  mistress's  moods.  But  Kitty  was  true  to  me, 
though  she  did  love  a  little  gossip,  and  let  my  douleur  pass 
for  what  she  very  shrewdly  suspected  it  was  not,  and  soon 
reverted  to  the  all-absorbing  subject  of  the  masquerade. 

"  "Would  you  ever  know  the  house  !"  she  said,  looking  ad 
miringly  up  and  down  the  hall.  "And  doesn't  the  piazza 
look  beautiful,  and  the  hall.  And  just  think  how  all  those 
colored  lamps  will  look  when  they're  lighted.  Really,  I 
can't  think  what's  got  into  master  to  take  all  this  trouble, 
and  turn  the  house  inside  out,  to  please  a  lot  of  young  ladies 
that  he  doesn't  care  a  straw  for !" 

Frances  opened  her  eyes  as  if  this  were  heresy.  Kitty 
went  on  with  energy :  "  Miss  Josephine  Churchill  needn't 
flatter  herself  that  she's  ever  going  to  be  more  at  home  at 
Rutledge  than  she  is  now.  I  don't  know  a  great  deal,  but 
I  know  enough  to  know  that." 

"  And  I  could  tell  you  something  perhaps,"  said  Frances, 
"  that  might  make  you  change  your  mind." 

"  I'd  like  to  hear  it !" 

"  Oh,  but  it  wouldn't  be  right.  I  never  talk  about  my 
young  lady's  secrets." 

"  But  you  might  tell  me,"  urged  Kitty,  artfully,  "  I've 
been  so  open  with  you." 

"  Come  down  to  the  laundry  then,  while  I  press  out  these 
fiounces,"  and  the  two  maids  flitted  downstairs  to  whisper 
over  the  secrets  that  their  respective  mistresses  had  fondly 
fancied  were  buried  in  the  recesses  of  their  own  hearts. 

And  so  each  way  I  turned,  there  was  a  new  dagger  to 
stab  me.  No  wonder  that  as  Kitty  said,  I  had  no  heart  for 
anything,  and  only  longed  to  be  away  and  be  at  rest.  Anx 
iety  was  added  to  the  remorse  and  regret  that  I  had  first 
thought  insupportable,  and  such  an  anxiety  as  made  my 
nights  sleepless,  and  my  days  a  misery.  No  wonder  that 
my  white  face,  and  the  dark  ring  around  my  eyes  bora 
hourlv  witness  to  the  heaviness  of  mv  heart. 


890  BUTLEDGE. 

" '  Why  so  sad  and  pale,  young  sinner  ?'  "  called  out 
Grace  that  evening,  as  about  an  hour  after  tea  we  were 
dispersing  to  our  rooms  to  dress  for  the  all-important 
occasion.  "•  I  think  you  ought  to  appear  as  Mariana,  and 
sing  '  I  am  aweary,  aweary ;'  don't  you  think  so,  Mr.  Rut- 
ledge  ?" 

"  Miss  Grace,  I  haven't  given  the  subject  enough  thought." 

"  I  would  give  worlds  to  know  what  you  are  going  to 
wear,  Mr.  Rutledge !"  exclaimed  Josephine.  "  But  I  know 
I  shall  detect  you  instantly.  I  should  know  your  step  and 
carriage  under  twenty  dominoes,  and  among  a  thousand 
people." 

"  Pretty  high  figures  those,  Joseph  !  Phil,  I  shall  know 
you  by  your  stride,  and  you  couldn't  disguise  your  voice  if 
you  practised  a  year,  and  that  bow  is  '  Philip  Arbuthnot,  His 
Mai'k,'  all  the  world  over !" 

"  The  best  way  to  disguis?  our  voices,"  said  Capt.  Mc- 
Guffy,  "  is  to  speak  French  I  think  we  had  all  better  agree 
to  do  it." 

"  Ella  will  not  object,"  said  Grace,  "  now  Mr.  Viennet  is 
not  here  to  criticise." 

"  Hush,  Grace  !"  cried  her  sister  maliciously.  "  How  can 
you  be  so  thoughtless  ?  Why  do  you  continually  harrow 
up  your  cousin's  feelings.  By  the  way,  this  is  the  day  the 
steamer  sails,  is  it  not  ?" 

"  No,  yesterday,"  said  Ellerton.  "  The  list  of  passen 
gers  will  be  in  to-day's  papers.  Has  the  mail  come  yet,  Mr. 
Rutledge  ?» 

"  There  is  Thomas  with  it  now." 

Thomas  deposited  the  package  on  the  hall  table  and  with 
drew.  I  was  standing  nearest  of  the  group  to  it,  and  put 
ting  out  my  hand,  took  up  the  "  Times." 

The  others  approached  and  with  great  interest  examined 
the  letters.  "  Why  my  dear  !"  said  Josephine  pleasantly, 
"  I'm  astonished  that  there's  none  for  you !  Not  a  word 
since  ho  went  away.  That  doesn't  look  devoted  I" 


KUTLBDGlf. 

The  color  went  and  came  in  my  1ace,  but  it  wasn't  the 
taunt  that  I  minded. 

"  Never  mind !"  cried  Grace,  "  don't  break  its  heart  about 
him  !  It  shall  have  another  lover,  it  shall  have  the  big  Ma 
son,  so  it  shall !" 

"  May  I  trouble  you  for  the  '  Times'  one  moment  ?"  asked 
Ellerton  Wynkar,  "  I  want  to  look  over  the  departures." 

' "  According  to  my  cousin,"  I  said,  tightening  my  grasp 
upon  the  paper,  "  I  have  the  greatest  interest  in  them,  and 
1  must  beg  the  privilege  of  reading  the  list  first." 

"  That's  not  fair  !"  cried  Grace.  "  How  do  you  know  but 
we  have  lovers  sailing  in  the  '  Arago '  as  well  as  you  ?  I 
must  have  that  paper,"  and,  springing  forward,  she  grasped 
my  wrists. 

She  could  have  overcome  me  in  a  moment,  for  just  then  I 
was  as  weak  as  a  child  ;  but  Mr.  Rutledge,  in  his  firm,  quiet 
way,  released  my  handy,  and,  holding  Grace's  tightly  in  hii 
own,  said  : 

"  You  had  better  make  your  escape  with  it  to  your  room ; 
I  cannot  insure  you  if  you  stay." 

With  a  grateful  look  and  a  forced  laugh  I  ran  upstairs, 
locked  myself  in  my  room,  and,  tearing  open  the  paper, 
glanced  hurriedly  up  and  down  the  columns  for  the  list  of  the 
"  Arago's "  passengers.  At  last  I  found  it,  and  skimmed 
eagerly  through  it.  It  was  as  I  expected ;  I  was  not  dis 
appointed  nor  shocked ;  but  my  hand  trembled  so  I  could 
hardly  cut  the  paragraph  out.  Ringing  for  Kitty,  I  sent 
the  paper  down,  with  my  compliments  to  Mr.  Wynkar. 

It  was  nearly  nine  o'clock  before  Kitty  came  back  to  dress 
me.  I  had  rung  twice,  but  received  no  answer.  When  she 
did  come,  I  saw  in  a  moment  that  the  delay  had  been  caused 
by  some  unusual  and  exciting  cause.  She  was  nervous  and 
uneasy,  and  started  at  every  sound.  Whenever  I  caught 
her  eye,  it  dropped  quickly  before  mine,  and  she  hurried  on 
with  less  than  her  usual  care,  the  dress  on  which  she  had 
bestowed  BO  much  pains  and  regarded  with  so  much  pride 


392  BDTLEDGE. 

When  I  was  dressed,  I  looked  at  myself  with  some  surprise  j 
I  was,  indeed,  effectually  disguised.  Over  my  white  tarle- 
tan  ball-dress,  I  wore  a  domino  of  white  silk,  trimmed  with 
heavy  white  fringe,  and  instead  of  the  ordinary  hideous 
black  satin  mask,  a  silver  gauze  before  the  upper  part  of  my 
face,  and  a  fall  of  white  lace  concealed  my  features  entirely. 
The  heels  of  my  white  kid  boots  were  made  very  high,  and 
that,  together  with  the  long  sweeping  dress,  made  me  appear 
so  much  taller  than  usual,  that  that  one  circumstance  would 
of  itself  have  deceived  almost  any  one.  I  noticed,  after  1 
was  all  dressed,  and  ready  to  go  down,  that  Kitty  was  a 
long  time  in  adjusting,  to  her  entire  satisfaction,  the  cord 
and  tassel  that  confined  the  domino  at  the  waist.  Just  as  I 
was  leaving  the  room,  I  chanced  to  look  down,  and  saw 
that  there  was  a  narrow  blue  ribbon  knotted  to  one  of  the 
tassels.  . 

"  What's  this,  Kitty  ?    Take  it  off,  please." 

"  That  ?  O,  it's  nothing,  Miss.  The  tassel  was  a  little 
loose,  and  I  fastened  it  up." 

"  But  all  the  rest  of  my  dress  is  white — this  spoils  the 
effect.  You'd  better  take  a  piece  of  white  ribbon." 

"  Oh !  Miss "  (a  little  impatiently),  "  how  particular 
you've  grown !  I  thought  you  wouldn't  mind  the  bit  of 
blue,  and  it's  so  late.  The  carnages  have  been  coming  this 
half  hour." 

"  Well,  no  matter  then.     I'll  go  down." 

Kitty  preceded  me,  stealing  an  occasional  look  around,  to 
ascertain  that  there  was  no  one  in  sight,  then  beckoned  me 
across  the  hall,  hurried  me  down  the  private  staircase  and 
through  a  labyrinth  of  pantries,  to  a  door  that  opened 
the  shrubbery. 

" This  way,"  whispered  Kitty.     " Follow  me," 


CHAPTER  XXXI, 

"  O  purblind  race  of  miserable  men, 
How  many  among  us  at  this  very  hour 
Do  forge  a  life-long  trouble  for  ourselves 
,-        By  taking  true  for  false,  or  false  for  true." 

TENNYSON. 

I  FOLLOWED  Kitty  down  the  dark  paths  of  the  shrubbery, 
and,  as  far  as  I  could  tell,  through  the  dazzling  gauze  of  my 
mask,  some  distance  across  the  park. 

"  Where  are  you  taking  me  ?  There  is  no  need  of  such 
precaution." 

"  O  yes,  indeed,"  she  answered  eagerly,  "  if  you  had  gone 
right  around  the  house  and  gone  in,  they  would  have  known 
in  a  minute  that  it  was  somebody  who  lived  there.  Mr. 
Wynkar  and  the  captain  were  on  the  steps,  watching.  I 
saw  them." 

She  hurried  me  on  till  we  reached  a  clump  of  trees  too 
far  from  the  lamps  suspended  to  the  branches  of  those  on 
the  lawn  to  be  lighted  by  them ;  then  pausing,  she  looked 
quickly  around. 

"  Are  you  not  tired,  Miss  ?"  she  said,  raising  her  voice. 
"  Hadn't  you  better  rest  a  minute  here  ?  We  walked  so 
fast." 

"  No,"  I  answered,  with  slight  impatience.  "  I  want  to  go 
immediately  to  the  house." 

"  Yes,  Miss,"  she  said,  uneasily.  "  Just  wait  till  this  car- 
riage  passes." 

It  might  have  been  fancy,  but  I  thought  I  heard  a  step 
behind  me,  and  starting  forward,  I  called  Kitty  instantly  to 
follow  me.  She  could  not  but  obey,  and  only  left  me  where 
the  lamps  from  the  piazza  threw  too  strong  a  light  for  hei 

17*  808 


394  BUTLEDGE. 

to  venture.  Whispering  to  me  where  I  should  find  her  if  I 
wanted  her  during  the  evening,  she  slipped  away,  and  I 
walked  on. 

The  carriage  reached  the  entrance,  and  the  occupants  of 
it  alighted  and  disappeared  within  the  awning  before  I  ar 
rived  at  it.  There  were  several  groups  of  masked  figures 
on  the  piazza  as  I  entered  the  inclosed  walk  from  the  car 
riage-way,  and,  mounting  the  steps,  approached  the  door. 

"How  spectral!"  whispered  one.  "And  look  at  that 
black  shadow  following  so  close." 

I  turned  involuntarily  at  this ;  a  black  domino  whom  I 
had  not  perceived  had  entered  with  me,  and  I  hurried  for 
ward  into  the  house  a  little  abruptly,  to  escape  his  com 
panionship,  and,  crossing  the  brilliant  and  beautifully  deco 
rated  hall,  I  entered  the  di-awing-room.  There  was  a  tem 
porary  lull  in  the  dancing,  and  I  paused  a  moment  to  recon 
noitre  before  I  advanced  to  Mrs.  Churchill.  She  was 
unmasked,  and  was  to  receive,  the  guests ;  she  stood  at  the 
other  end  of  the  room,  and  it  was  rather  a  formidable  thing 
to  cross  to  her,  but  remembering  to  disguise  my  step,  I 
walked  slowly  and  with  some  stateliness  over  to  where  she 
stood,  made  my  devoirs,  and  turned  away ;  but  half  a 
yard  behind  me  was  my  black  shadow.  All  eyes  were 
upon  us. 

"What  a  ghostly  pair !"  exclaimed  a  vivacious  peasant 
girl  from  the  folding-doors.  "  I  shall  not  be  astonished  if, 
when  .the  masks  are  dropped  at  supper-time,  a  skeleton 
should  step  out  of  that  black  domino,  and  preside  at  the 
feast !" 

"  And  a  nymph  of  Lurley  out  of  that  white  diapery," 
said  "  General  Washington,"  approaching  and  offering  me 
his  arm*  We  made  the  tour  of  the  rooms,  admired  the 
flowers,  discussed  the  dresses,  and  tried  to  find  each  other 
out.  I  soon  discovered  my  companion  to  be  Mr.  Emerson 
of  the  Grove,  a  fine,  dignified  old  gentleman,  whom  I  had 
always  admired.  His  unconscious  interest  in,  and  admira- 


RUTLEDGE.  395 

tion  for,  a  tall  brunette,  whose  black  eyes  sparkled  even 
through  her  mask,  betrayed  her  immediately  to  me  as  his 
daughter,  Miss  Janet  Emerson.  The  Misses  Mason  were 
flower-girls  of  course  ;  their  mamma,  by  virtue  of  her  lite 
rary  proclivities  and  immense  fund  of  sentiment,  appeared  as 
i  sibyl,  ar>d  told  fortunes  untiringly  ;  the  younger  Mr.  Ma- 
ton  wore  sn  English  hunting-dress,  and  the  elder  one  es- 
jiped  my  observation  among  the  crowd  of  greater  strangers 
n  the  room.  An  Oxford  student  paid  me  marked  attention^ 
but  discovering  the  unmistakable  white  eyelashes  and  feeble 
voice  of  my  pet  aversion,  Ellerton  Wynkar,  I  became  dis. 
couragingly  distant  and  severe,  and  he  transferred  his  devo 
tion  to  a  pretty  Greek  dress,  which  I  soon  concluded  must 
enshrine  the  indolent  loveliness  of  my  cousin  Grace. 

Beyond  this,  my  penetration  was  entirely  at  fault ;  among 
the  crowd  of  grotesque  and  graceful  figures,  I  tried  in  vain 
to  recognize  any  of  our  own  party.  There  were  half  a 
dozen  men  of  Phil's  height,  and  as  many  of  Mr.  Rutledge^s 
make  ;  so  many  imitated  the  captain's  military  manner,  that 
it  was  impossible  to  recognize  the  stork  among  the  cranes. 
There  were  two  Louis  Quatorze  costumes,  that  more  than 
any  others  suggested  Josephine  and  Ella,  but  I  could  not 
be  positive  ;  they  were  BO  exactly  alike,  that  even  when  to 
gether  one  could  not  detect  a  skade  of  diiference  either  in 
dress  or  manner.  The  powdered  hair  and  masks,  of  course, 
concealed  the  diversity  of  color  and  complexion. 

"Those  two  are  the  most  distinguished-looking  in  the 
room,"  said  General  Washington,  by  way  of  small  talk. 
"  I  suppose  you  have  recognized  them — Miss  Churchill  and 
her  cousin." 

"  Which  cousin  ?» 

"  The  one  who  is  engaged  to  the  young  Frenchman. 
Quite  a  pretty  girl.  I  never  saw  her  look  so  well  as  she 
does  to-night." 

"  Which  is  Mr.  Rutledge,  do  you  know  ?"  I  asked. 

"  I  have  not  made*  him  out  yet,  but  if  you  care  to  know 


896  R  U  T  L  E  I)  G  E  . 

the  surest  way  \vill  bo  to  stay  here,  in  the  neighborhood  ol 
Miss  Churchill:  he  will  not  be  very  far  off!" 

"  Then  let  us  sit  here,"  and  I  sank  down  on  a  sofa. 

"  Your  cavalier  keeps  a  faithful  watch  upon  your  move 
ments,"  said  my  companion.  "  He  has  followed  you  from 
room  to  room,  and  is  just  behind  you  now." 

"  Who  is  it  that  you  mean  ?" 

"  The  black  domino — the  gentleman  who  came  with 
you." 

And  the  black  domino  at  that  moment  bent  down,  and, 
in  a  low,  smothered  voice,  asked  me  if  I  would  dance.  I 
declined  very  quickly,  and  turned  away  my  head. 

"  Miss  Churchill,  will  you  dance  this  set  with  me  ?"  asked 
a  gentleman,  in  French,  approaching  me. 

Disguised  as  the  voice  was,  there  was  something  familiar 
in  it.  I  gave  him  my  hand,  and  we  took  our  places  at  the 
head  of  the  room.  It  very  soon  became  evident  that  he 
had  mistaken  me  for  Miss  Churchill,  and  I  determined  to 
keep  up  the  character.  It  was  not  very  difficult ;  we  were 
exactly  the  saine  size,  and  .1  had  always  been  a  good  mimic, 
so  that,  in  five  minutes,  I  was  coquetting,  twisting  my  fan, 
and  taking  off  Josephine  to  the  life.  It  was  not  so  easy  to 
find  out  who  I  was  quizzing.  He  was  evidently  a  master 
of  trie  art  of  deception,  disguised  his  voice,  his  step,  his 
manner,  and  was  never  off  his  guard  an  instant.  He  did 
not  answer  to  anybody's  description  exactly,  though  I  was 
constantly  convinced,  by  his  familiarity  with  us  all,  that  he 
was  "  one  of  us."  I  tried  to  bait  him  with  allusions  to  all 
our  acquaintance,  but  he  was  too  wary  to  rise  to  any  of 
them. 

"  HOAV  did  you  find  me  out  so  easily  ?"  I  said,  with  a 
laugh  so  like  Josephine's  that  I  was  absolutely  startled  my 
self.  "  I  thought  I  was  disguised  beyond  all  detection." 

"  Not  from  me." 

"  Ah,  you  are  so  clever !"  I  said,  putting  my  head  on  one 
side,  with  an  affectation  characteristic  of  Josephine.  "  Now 


K  u  T  L  E  :;  G  E  .  397 


help  me  to  discover  some  of  the  others.     Who  is  our 
vis  in  the  Spanish  dress  ?" 

"  You  should  not  have  to  ask." 

"  Mais  qul  ?" 

"  Mr.  Arbuthnot,  sans  doute." 

"  Ah  !  my  heart  should  have  told  me  Phil  !  Which  is  the 
captain  ?" 

"  '  Ivanhoe,'  there  by  the  door,  talking  with  the  'Father 
of  his  Country.'" 

'"  And  oh  !  tell  me,  for  I  am  dying  to  know,  have  you 
found  out  my  cousin  ?" 

"  I  do  not  think  she  is  in  the  room." 

'  Impossible  !     Then  she  must  be  ill." 

"  Indifferent,  more  probably." 

"  Ah  !  perhaps.  '  There  is  but  one  with  whom  she  has 
neart  to  be  gay  !'  But  has  nobody  been  up  to  see  what  has 
become  of  her  ?" 

"  No  one,  I  fancy." 

"  Had  I  better  go  ?" 

"  That's  as  you  please,"  with  a  slight  shrug. 

"Well,  I'll  see,  after  this  dance.  Who  is  that  black 
domino,  pray  ?" 

"  That  is  more  than  I  can  tell  you.  He  is  the  only  man 
in  the  room  whom  I  have  not  detected.  He  has  not  danced, 
"••«a-  suoken  to  any  one,  I  mink.  I  shall  watch  him  closely 
and  T>e  near  him  when  he  unmasks." 

"Yf!.«  Liit  that's  rather  uncertain.  He  may  leave  tha 
room  oeiore  tnen.- 

"  That's  very  possible.  He  seems  to  be  hovering  near 
us.  Suppose,  after  this  dance,  you  draw  him  into  conver 
sation,  and  try  to  make  him  out?  He  seems  to  avoid  me, 
and  I  am  really  very  curious,  to  know  him." 

"  Very  well,  to  gratify  you,  I  will  try  to  detect  him  ; 
but  my  cousin  —  will  you  take  that  duty  off  my  hands  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  will  send  a  servant  to  inquire,  and  report  the  re 
suit  to  you." 


898  KUTLEDGE. 

"  Thank  you.  How  kind  you  always  are  !  I  should  know 
that  goodness  of  heart  under  twenty  dominoes,  and  among  a 
thousand  people !" 

My  companion,  bowing  low,  gave  me  a  quick  look  from 
under  the  cowl  of  his  monk's  habit. 

"  You  are  too  flattering,"  he  said,  and  the  dance  ended. 

The  black  domino  was  at  my  elbow,  and  nodding  sig 
nificantly  to  my  partner,  I  turned  abruptly  to  him,  and  said, 
still  in  imitation  of  Josephine's  voice  : 

"  Will  you  give  me  your  arm  ?  My  partner  has  another 
engagement." 

He  bowed,  and  offered  me  his  arm.  His  voice,  when  he 
spoke,  was  so  low,  and  so  studiously  disguised,  it  was  im 
possible  to  detect  anything  from  that;  his  coarse  black 
domino  hung  so  long  and  amply  about  him,  and  the  hood 
was  drawn  so  tightly  around  his  mask,  that  no  one  could 
possibly  distinguish  anything  of  his  face,  figure,  or  carriage. 
Before  we  had  made  the  tour  of  the  rooms,  I  began  to  re 
pent  my  bargain.  There  was  something  in  his  manner  that 
made  me  most  uncomfortable.  I  determined  not  to  give 
up  my  assumed  vivacity,  but  it  was  like  chatting  Avith  a 
ghost ;  and  when  I  went  with  him  into  the  punch-room,  and 
raised  a  glass  to  my  lips,  bowing  to  him  over  it,  it  seemed 
like  a  "  hob-and-nob  with  Death,"  and  the  laugh  I  laughed 
was  a  very  faint  and  forced  one,  as  we  set  our  half-tasted 
glasses  down.  I  was  so  uncomfortable  at  being  alone  with 
him,  that  I  stammered  hurriedly : 

"  Shan't  we  go  back  to  the  dancing-room  ?" 

"  Are  you  afraid  of  me  ?"  he  said  quickly,  and  in  a  low 
tone,  "  can  you  not  give  me  a  moment  from  your  pleasure  ?" 

"  Sir  !"  I  said,  shrinking  back  ;  "  I  haven't  the  least  idea 
who  you  are." 

"  You  can  forget,  it  seems.     I  envy  you  the  power !" 

"  You  talk  in  riddles,"  I  said,  going  toward  the  door. 
Another  party  entered  the  room,  and  ray  companion  foJ« 
tewed  me  out. 


RUTLEDGE.  399 

"  What  a  grotesque  scene  !"  I  said,  looking  up  and  down 
the  wide  hall,  where  wreaths  of  flowers  and  lights  and  float 
ing  flags  hung,  and  thronging  across  whose  marble  pavement 
were  groups  of  fantastic  figures.  "  I  never  was  at  a  masque 
rade  before.  Is  it  not  diverting  ?" 

"  Will  you  come  upon  the  piazza  ?"  asked  my  companion, 
not  heeding  my  remark.  "  It  is  too  warm  here." 

"  ISTo,"  I  exclaimed,  hurriedly,  "  I  cannot,  here  is  my 
partner." 

The  "friar  of  orders  grey"  obeyed  my  hasty  summons,  and 
I  accepted  his  arm  with  very  great  empressement,  stammer 
ing  some  excuse  to  the  sable  domino  in  the  doorway,  and 
walked  down  the  hall. 

"  Well,  have  you  discovered  him  ?" 

"  No,  I  do  not  know  him  at  all,  he  is  very  odd.  I  think 
he  is  a  stranger.  Not  anybody,  at  all  events,  that  any  of  us 
know  well." 

"  I  cannot  understand  it,"  he  said,  musingly.  "  I  thought 
you  would  have  been  able  to  have  obtained  some  clue.  He 
seemed  willing  to  talk  to  you." 

"  Only  too  willing !" 

"  Did  he  seem  to  recognize  you  ?" 

"  I  cannot  tell  exactly ;  he  certainly  thought  he  knew, 
but  whether  it  were  not  a  mistake  on  his  part,  I, cannot 
say." 

"  He  avoids  me  ;  I  cannot  make  anything  of  him ;  I  shall 
have  to  put  some  one  else  on  the  track." 

"  What  of  my  cousin?"  I  asked. 

"  I  found  Kitty,  who  says  she  is  not  very  well,  but  will 
probably  be  in  the  room  a  little  before  supper." 

"  Ah,  thank  you.  You  have  no  idea,  I  suppose,  what  her 
dress  is  to  be  ?" 

"  Kitty  gave  me  to  understand,  very  quietly,  that  she 
would  wear  a  rose-colored  domino." 

"  There  is  a  rose-colored  domino  just  entering  ;  do  yon 
imagine  that  is  the  fairfancee  fn 


400  KUTLEDGE. 

"  Very  possibly,"  said  my  companion. 

"  She  is  going  to  dance.     Is  that  Phil  with  her  P" 

Phil  at  this  moment  asked  my  partner  to  be  his  \>u  ,«-vis, 
so  we  were  again  drawn  into  the  dance.  By  this  tim<.>.  half 
the  people  in  the  room  thought  I  was  Miss  Churchill^  and 
addressed  me  accordingly.  In  one  of  the  pauses  of  the 
i*a,drille,  as  some  one  calling  me  by  that  name  had  turned 
away,  the  black  domino,  who  stood  a  little  behind  m  >  on  my 
left,  leaned  forward  and  whispered : 

"  You  cannot  deceive  me;  it  was  not  Miss  Churohill  who 
was  to  have  a  blue  ribbon  on  her  tassel." 

I  started ;  what  intrigue  was  that  Kitty  about  \ 

The  dance  was  over ;  Phil  and  his  partner  left  the  room 
and  turned  toward  the  piazza. 

"  Shall  we  go  into  the  fresh  air  ?"  said  my  companion, 
following  them  with  his  eyes.  I  took  his  arm,  and  we 
went  on  the  piazza.  The  soft  light  of  the  colored  lamps, 
the  mellow  music  floating  out  to  us,  the  cool  air  in  our 
faces — I  met  with  a  gasp  of  relief  and  pleasure.  Leading 
me  to  a  seat  rather  more  secluded  than  the  others,  my  com 
panion  threw  himself  on  the  sofa  beside  me,  and  exclaimed, 
removing  his  mask : 

"  This  is  so  unsupportably  warm,  I  must  take  it  off  for  a 
moment's  relief,  as  I  believe  you  know  me.  Well!  Miss 
Josephine,  how  do  you  think  our  masquerade  has  succeeded  ? 
Are  you  satisfied  with  the  result  ?" 

"  Perfectly,"  I  said,  feeling  very  guilty,  and  leaning 
back  further  into  the  shade.  "It  has  been  a  delightful 
affair." 

He  rested  his  brow  thoughtfully  and  sadly  on  his  hand 
for  a  moment.  "  You  are  tired,"  I  said. 

"  Miserably  tired." 

It  was  well  for  me  he  did  not  require  me  to  talk;  1 
should  have  betrayed  myself  if  I  had  attempted  it.  His 
eyes  were  riveted  on  the  pair  who  stood  a  few  yards  from 
us.  Phil,  bending  down,  was  whispering  in  low  tones  to 


It  CT  T  I    E  D  G  B  -  401 

his  companion  in  the  pink  domino.  There  was  something  in 
her  attitude,  as  she  listened  with  half-bent  head,  that  I 
could  not  fail  to  recognize,  and  from  below  the  edge  of  her 
domino,  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  yellow  brocade.  There  was 
but  one  to  whom  Phil  could  talk  in  those  earnest  tones — but 
one  to  whom  he  could  tell  that  tale.  Josephine,  I  saw, 
must  have  gone  upstairs,  and  put  on  the  domino  over  her 
first  dress,  the  more  to  puzzle  some  of  her  partners.  Kitty 
had  in  some  way  become  acquainted  with  her  intention,  and 
seized  upon  it  to  further  the  deception  that  she  saw  pre 
vailed  in  regard  to  me.  There  was  very  little  that  escaped 
that  clever  jade.  I  wished,  with  a  sigh,  that  she  were  less 
unscrupulous.  In  a  few  moments,  the  cousins  passed  where 
we  sat,  nearly  concealed  from  them,  walking  slowly  and 
talking  earnestly. 

"  You  cannot  ask  me  to  endure  it  longer  ;  this  suspense 
is  misery,"  he  said,  with  a  quiver  in  his  manly  voice. 

"  Dear  Phil,"  murmured  the  clear,  low  tones  of  his  com 
panion,  "  you  must  know  my  feelings  toward  you ;  I  have 
never  tried  to  hide  them ;  but  you  know  ho  wit  is — you  know 
it  would  be  madness  for  either  of  us  to  think  of  each  other." 

"  Why  would  it  be  madness  ?"  he  urged.  "  Oh,  Jose 
phine  !  Why  cannot  you  give  up  the  ambition  that  sepa 
rates  us  ?  Depend  upon  it,  it  has  stood  in  the  way  of  your 
happiness  all  your  life." 

It  had  been  impossible  to  avoid  hearing  this  conversation , 
my  companion,  starting  up,  looked  after  the  retreating 
figures  amazed  and  stern.  In  his  haste,  he  had  pulled  down 
an  American  flag  that  had  been  draped  over  the  sofa 
we  occupied.  I  started  up,  and  involuntarily  raised  my 
hand  to  replace  it.  The  loose  sleeve  fell  back  from  my 
arm,  and  in  the  strong  light  of  the  lamp  overhead,  the  scar 
on  my  wrist  caught  his  eye.  With  a  quick,  imperious 
movement,  he  seized  my  ha*nd  before  I  could  withdraw  it, 
and  held  it  firmly  in  one  of  his,  while  with  the  other  he 
raised  my  mask. 


402  RUTLEDGE. 

"  You  have  deceived  me,"  he  said,  between  his  teeth. 

"  You  have  deceived  yourself,  you  are  the  victim  of  your 
ow?,  prejudices.  You  cannot  say  I  did  more  than  humor 
your  decision  !"  I  returned,  quickly. 

"  You  only  acted  a  womanly  and  natural  part,  lied  sweetly 
in  every  glance  of  your  bright  eyes,  in  every  turn  of  your 
graceful  figure,  in  every  word  on  your  red  lips  !  I  don't 
blame  you  ;  you  are  a  woman." 

"  You  are  too  cruel !  you  will  repent  this  some  day ;  it 
will  be  the  bitterest  thing  you  have  to  remember  ;  the 
recollection  of  it  will  make  you  suffer  as  you  have  made  me 
suffer." 

"Never  fear  but  I  shall  have  enough,  to  suffer,  if  the 
present  is  any  earnest  of  the  future  for  me !  Your  kindest 
wishes  will  be  more  than  realized.  For  a  proud  man,"  he 
said,  with  a  low,  bitter  laugh,  flinging  from  him  the  hand 
he  held,  "  for  a  proud  man,  I  have  had  some  humiliations 
that  you  would  hardly  believe  if  I  told  you !  You  could 
hardly  understand  them  in  your  simplicity ;  your  soft, 
woman's  heart  would  bleed,  perhaps,  but  it  would  heal 
itself  too  soon  to  allay  in  any  great  degree  my  wretched 
ness.  Your  morning-glory  tenderness  would  droop  before 
the  fierceness  of  my  pain,  it  would  die  in  my  hot  grasp ! — I 
will  not  ask  your  pity,  but  spare  me  your  detestation. 
Save  the  aversion  that  your  eyes  showed  then,  for  those 
who  have  deserved  it  better  at  you  hands." 

There  was  a  sound  of  voices  from  within,  a  window  near 
us  was  thrown  open,  and  a  group  of  people,  laughing  and 
talking,  stepped  out  on  the  piazza.  Hastily  restoring  my 
mask  to  its  place,  I  turned  away  and  entered  the  house 
through  the  window  they  had  opened. 

"  You  may  have  deceived  one  who  is  indifferent  to  you 
you  cannot  deceive  one  who  loves  you,"  said  a  low  voice  in 
my  ear,  and  the  black  figure  I  instinctively  dreaded  stood 
beside  me.     "  For  the  sake  of  heaven,  come  with  me,  one 
moment !" 


RTJTLEDGE.  403 

"  Who  are  you  ?"  I  murmured,  shrinking  bacK. 

He  bent  down  and  whispered  a  name  in  my  ear,  at  which 
the  color  left  my  cheek,  the  light  my  eye,  almost  the  life 
my  pulses. 

"  Will  you  come  ?» 

I  bent  my  head  without  a  word,  and  followed  him  out  of 
the  hall,  down  the  terrace,  through  the  winding  paths  of 
the  shrubbery,  across  the  garden ;  hurrying  on  to  suit  his 
fierce  pace,  but  chilled  to  the  heart  wi*h  a  terror  that  WM 
no  longer  nameless. 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

"  O  man  I  while  in  thy  early  years, 

How  prodigal  of  time ! 
Misspending  all  thy  precious  hours, 

Thy  glorious,  youthful  prime  ! 
Alternate  follies  take  the  sway  : 

Licentious  passions  burn ; 
Which  tenfold  force  give  Nature's  law, 
That  man  was  made  to  mourn." 

BURNS. 

IHE  spot  to  which  my  companion  led  me  was  a  ruined 
gummerhouse,  not  a  stone's  throw  from  the  outer  garden 
hedge.  It  was  a  lonely  place  in  a  sort  of  hollow,  a  lowj 
dense  orchard  stretched  dark  on  one  side,  while  a  little 
knoll,  crowned  with  copse,  rose  between  it  and  all  view  of 
the  house  and  grounds  on  the  other,  and  a  little  stream  fell 
murmuring  down  from  rock  to  rock  through  the  ravine. 
Why  it  was  so  deserted  and  dilapidated,  I  had  never  ex 
actly  known ;  but  from  something  Stephen  had  said,  when 
I  had  questioned  him  about  it,  I  had  conjectured  that  it 
was  associated  with  the  shame  and  fall  of  her  whose 
memory  was  even  yet  so  painful,  and  that  ruin  and  decay 
were  welcome  to  hide  the  place  from  all  eyes. 

The  night  wind  was  moaning  wildly  down  the  little 
hollow;  the  ghastly  moonlight  flickered  fitfully  through 
the  broken  roof  and  moldering  arches;  the  moss-grown, 
slimy  stones  rocked  beneath  my  tread ;  steadying  myself 
by  one  of  the  posts  of  the  ruined  doorway,  I  stood  still  and 
waited  for  my  companion  to  speak.  He  had  sunk  down  on 
a  seat,  but  in  a  moment,  raising  his  head,  he  loosed  the 
hood  of  his  domino,  and,  as  it  fell  back,  rose  and  turned  his 
face  toward  me.  With  a  faint  cry,  I  put  out  my  hands  and 

404 


BCJT  LEDGE.  405 

started  back.  In  the  haggard,  bloodless  face,  the  wild  and 
troubled  eye  of  the  man  before  me,  I  could  hardly  recog 
nize  a  feature  of  Victor  Viennet's  handsome  face. 

"  No  need  to  start  away  and  put  out  your  white  hands 
to  keep  me  off,"  he  said,  with  a  laugh  that  made  my  blood 
run  cold.  "  No  need  to  press  your  pale  lips  together  to 
keep  back  that  cry  of  horror !  I  have  risked  my  life — aye 
— sold  it,  rather — for  this  interview,  and  yet  I  would  not 
_ay  my  guilty  grasp  upon  the  hand  you  have  promised  to 
me,  I  would  not  touch  the  distantest  fold  of  your  white 
dress !  There  is  no  need  to  droop,  and  flutter,  and  clasp  your 
hands,  and  pray  me  to  be  calm — don't  turn  your  eyes  on 
me  with  such  a  look  as  that !  You  try  to  say  you  love  me 
yet ;  wait  till  I  tell  you,  wait  till  you  know  all,  before  you 
«ay  you  love  me !" 

"  You  need  not  tell  me,  Victor,"  I  faltered,  "  I  guessed 
it  from  the  first." 

"  You  guessed  it  from  the  first,  and  yet  dared  come  here 
• — alone— at  midnight — with  me  !  No,  you  have  not 
guessed  it.  Your  girl's  heart  never  framed  the  outline  of 
such  a  sin,  you  will  swoon  but  to  hear  its  name !" 

The  night  wind  howling  through  the  shivering  trees,  the 
restless  brook  moaning  down  the  hollow,  if  ever  their  wild 
lament  had  ceased,  would  have  heard,  brokenly  and  inco 
herently,  such  a  story  as  this  : 

In  a  quaint,  secluded  village,  in  some  remote  province  of 
France,  Victor  Viennet's  early  childhood  had  been  passed. 
It  was  a  childhood  so  companionless  that,  but  that  he  was 
happy  and  needed  nothing  save  his  sad  mother's  love  and  his 
wild  freedom,  one  would  have  pitied  him  even  then,  before 
he  knew  the  shame  he  had  to  bear  and  the  sufferings  it 
would  bring.  For  months  together  no  stranger's  foot 
would  cross  the  threshold  of  the  lonely  cottage  ;  the  neigh- 
bors  looked  askance  at  the  two  pale  women  and  the  pretty 
boy,  who  had  come  »o  strangely  and  so  stealthily  into  theii 
midst,  and  rumor  had  been  busy  even  there.  The  vjJJagw 


406    '  -BUTLEDGE. 

children  were  forbid  to  play  with  "  te  petit  Angl&ig ;" 
taunted  and  mocked  him,  and  he,  in  his  turn,  spurned  and 
hated  them,  and  clung  more  entirely  to  his  mother,  who 
strove-  to  interfere  between  him  and  every  insult,  every 
harshness,  and  vexation.  And  but  too  well  she  succeeded 
in  guarding  him ;  when  death  came  to  unloose  her  arms 
from  around  him,  he  was  left  too  sensitive  and  shrinking  a 
piant  to  bear  the  first  breath  of  the  scorching  simoon  of 
scorn  and  ignominy  that  had  been  gathering  up  its  strength 
so  long.  The  fatal  secret  of  his  birth,  that  explained  all, 
burst  suddenly  upon  him  while  his  childish  heart  was  yet 
bleeding  with  his  first  grief.  He  learned  that  he  must 
thank  his  dead  mother  for  the  brand  of  shame  that  he  must 
bear  through  life  ;  that  for  her,  whom  he  had  worshipped 
as  an  angel,  there  was  on  every  lip  a  name  of  scorn.  He 
learned  that  every  man's  hand  was  against  him,  as  an  out 
cast  and  a  bastard;  and  all  the  strength  of  his  nature 
became  a  strength  of  hatred  ;  his  southern  blood  turned  to 
gall  in  his  young  veins.  The  home  that  had  been  his  sanc 
tuary,  his  city  of  refuge,  was  a  desecrated  and  hateful 
place.  The  same  fever  that  had  struck  down  his  mother, 
had  laid  her  nurse  and  companion  low.  Tenderness  and 
compassion  had  been  blasted  in  the  boy's  heart ;  they  had 
both  deceived  and  wronged  him  ;  he  owed  nothing  to  the 
memory  of  the  one,  nor  to  the  misery  of  the  other ;  and 
without  a  look,  he  left  her  in  her  unconsciousness,  and 
turned  his  back  forever  on  his  home,  with  the  curse  in  his 
heart  for  which  he  had  not  yet  learned  the  words. 

Who  needs  be  told  the  career  on  which  the  boy  entered  ? 
Who  but  would  sicken  and  turn  away  from  the  record  of 
his  houseless  wanderings,  his  desperate  shifts,  his  reckless 
ness  and  wickedness.  Who  that  could  read  with  anything 
but  sorrow  of  the  scenes  of  squalid  want,  of  cunning  vice, 
of  mad  profligacy,  through  which  "*ie  passed  before  his  youth 
•was  yet  begun.  There  could  be  but  one  result ;  all  that  was 
weak  in  him  was  bent  to  the  service  of  sin,  all  that  wai 


EUTLEDGE.  407 

noble  was  turned  to  bitterness ;  the  refinement  ci  his  nature 
made  him  rise,  but  it  was  to  no  heights  of  truth  and  virtue  ; 
ambition  had  taken  the  place  of  all  noble  aspirations,  and 
sustained  him  through  ignominy,  and  reproach,  and  poverty, 
helped  him  to  trample  on  difficulties  that  would  have  daunt 
ed  a  less  desperate  man,  and  scruples  that  would  have  shak 
en  a  better  one,  aided  him  to  free  himself  from  the  pollu 
tions  that  his  wild  boyhood  had  contracted,  and  to  shake 
off  the  trammels  of  the  past,  and  crown  himself  with  the 
success  that  he  had  made  his  god.  But  through  it  all,  there 
lived  a  fear  lest  the  forgotten  stain  of  his  birth  should  be 
revived,  the  foundation  stone  be  pulled  from  his  fair  fabric 
of  good  fortune ;  and  this  morbid  dread  so  haunted  him, 
that  he  came  to  hate  the  very  sunshine  and  soft  air  of 
France,  to  fear  the  very  children  in  the  streets,  the  stran 
gers  whose  curious  eyes  he  met  in  the  thoroughfares  of  bu 
siness.  And  with  all  the  fearful  and  enslaved  of  the  earth, 
he  turned  his  eyes  toward  the  fair  land  that  promises  abso 
lution  and  new  life  to  the  sinful  and  miserable  of  other  lands, 
and  denies  its  rich  benisoa  of  hope  and  freedom  neither  to 
the  criminal  who  flies  from  justice,  nor  the  miserable  who 
flies  from  memory.  With  three  thousand  miles  of  ocean 
between  him  and  France,  perhaps  he  could  shake  off  the 
slavish  dread  that  gnawed  forever  at  his  peace,  and  rise  to 
a  position  where  he  need  not  fear  its  sting.  The  untainted 
air  of  that  new  land  had  never  heard  the  whisper  of  his 
shame,  should  never  hear  it;  even  in  his  own  bosom,  it 
should  die  forgotten  and  unfeared. 

But  than  his  strong  will,  there  had  been  a  stronger.  With 
in  the  first  week  of  his  arrival  in  America,  he  was  seized 
with  a  malignant  fever,  and  from  delirir/n  and  raving,  sunk 
to  stupor  and  an  almost  death-like  torpor,  and  for  weeks 
lay  so.  When  at  last  he  rallied  and  shook  off  the  lethargy 
that  had  so  long  dulled  intelligence  and  feeling,  it  was  to 
find,  that  in  the  first  hours  of  his  delirium,  he  had  betrayed 
his  secret  and  undone  himself ;  and  betrayed  it  to  a  mau 


408  EUTLEDGE. 

whom  neitner  honor  nor  pity  could  bind,  but  whose  cunning 
malice  gloated  over  the  power  his  discovery  had  invested 
him  with,  and  who  would  use  it  maliciously  and  unscrupu 
lously.  It  did  no  good  to  rave  and  curse  his  fate  ;  all  the 
power  of  his  strong  will  must  go  to  the  repairing  of  the  error, 
and  to  the  hushing  and  pacifying  this  low  man  who  held 
him  at  such  advantage.  It  seemed  an  easy  enough  thing  at 
first ;  the  man  wa.«  ^ady  to  promise  silence  and  assure  him 
of  his  good  will,  and  seemed  to  require  nothing  in  return 
but  good  fellowship  and  confidence.  Anything  would  have 
been  easier  for  Victor  to  have  given ;  his  proud  spirit  re 
volted  at  such  companionship  and  bondage,  but  at  the  first 
sign  of  contempt  or  impatience,  the  glistening  serpent 
showed  his  sting,  and  chafed  and  despairing,  the  victim  felt 
the  toils  tighten  around  him.  There  was  no  escape  from 
his  familiarity ;  he  haunted  and  exasperated  him,  dogged 
his  steps,  followed  him  into  the  company  of  men  who  could 
not  but  wonder  at  the  intimacy  a»d  draw  their  own  conclu 
sions  from  his  endurance  of  such  a  man. 

With  the  exception  of  this  cruel  drawback,  the  new  land 
mdeed  proved  an  Eldorado  to  Victor.  Friends  thickened, 
fortune  smiled ;  he  rose  with  hasty  steps  to  success,  social 
and  commercial.  Only  the  sly  gleam  of  Dr.  Hugh's  treach 
erous  eye  sent  an  occasional  fear  through  the  pride  of  his 
heart,  and  kept  it  in  a  sort  of  check.  But  it  did  not  hum 
ble  him,  it  only  galled  and  goaded  him,  and  quickened  his 
determination  to  prove  himself  a  man  fora'  that ;  it  strength 
ened  his  haughtiness  and  self-reliance.  In  the  course  of  a 
year  or  two,  however,  circumstances  somewhat  changed ; 
Dr.  Hugh  left  the  city,  and  Victor  breathed  freer.  Occa 
sional  letters  still  reached  him,  keeping  him  in  mind,  but 
they  ceased  after  awhile,  and  the  young  adventurer  began 
to  feel  secure ;  he  was  on  the  road  to  fortune,  the  only  bar 
rier  to  success  was  gone,  and  the  happiness  he  had  never 
dared  enjoy  before,  seemed  just  within  his  grasp.  And  just 
then,  just  when  the  new  hopes  of  love,  and  the  nearly 


RUTLEDGE. 

crowned  ambition,  most  demanded  the  hiding  of  the  hated 
secret,  chance  threw  him  upon  the  only  man  who  held  it. 
No  wonder  that  his  cheek  had  blanched  the  evening  that  he 
came  to  Rutledge,  when  he  found  the  doctor  there  before 
him.  The  doctor  had  not  forgotten,  the  doctor  had  not  lost 
sight  of  him,  though  he  had  lost  sight  of  the  doctor,  and 
soon  his  stealthy  hand  was  on  the  festering  wound  again, 
nd  his  old  cunning  at  work  to  exasperate  his  victim,  and 
with  a  new  zest. 

That  Victor  had  been  a  successful  man  of  business  he  had 
not  minded ;  it  only  made  his  power  over  him  the  more  de 
sirable,  and  the  remuneration  for  his  silence  greater;  but 
that  Victor  should  be  the  successful  lover  of  one  whom  he 
had  reason  to  regard  with  resentment  and  aversion,  was  too 
severe  a  trial  for  his  love  of  malice  to  endure.  Here  was 
an  opportunity  for  humbling  the  girl  who  had  treated  him 
with  scorn  and  ridicule,  and  the  proud  man  who  endured 
him  with  but  half  concealed  impatience.  Victor  Viennet 
should  give  up  the  woman  he  loved,  and  only  buy  a  promise 
of  continued  silence  at  a  heavy  price.  The  girl  should  lose 
her  lover  ;  in  any  case  he  promised  himself  that.  If  Vic 
tor  refused  to  give  her  up,  a  whisper  in  his  ear  of  what  he 
knew  of  her  secret,  would  damp  his  ardor  and  bring  pride 
to  weigh  down  the  balance  as  he  wished.  And  her  pride, 
if  even  Victor's  infatuation  led  him  to  prefer  exposure  and 
disgrace  to  separation,  would  never  suffer  her  to  marry  a 
man,  who,  from  the  first  she  had  never  loved,  now  stripped 
of  his  name  and  honor.  In  any  event  that  was  secure  to 
him.  But  he  had  overreached  his  aim  when  he  drove  Vic 
tor  to  resolve  on  such  a  sudden  departure.  Once  in  Europe, 
he  might  lose  track  of  him ;  his  vigilance  at  such  a  dis 
tance  might  be  eluded,  and  all  but  his  revenge  would  be 
lost ;  and  chance  had  thrown  into  his  -nand  the  threads  ol  a 
mystery  that  only  time  could  unravel,  that  promised  power 
over  more  than  him  ;  but  Victor's  absence  would  ruin  all. 
Late  on  the  night  before  his  intended  departure  from 
18 


410  BLTLEDGK. 

Rutledge,  a  note  was  handed  to  him  from  Dr.  Hugh,  de 
manding  another  interview  before  he  sailed.  Victor  dared 
not  neglect  or  refuse  the  demand.  It  was  too  late  now  to 
change  his  plans,  and  of  all  things  he  desired  to  conceal  the 
fact  of  his  having  any  private  business  with  Dr.  Hugh,  from 
his  host  and  the  guests  at  Rutledge.  Gnashing  his  teeth 
at  the  humiliation  of  feeling  himself  at  the  beck  and  call  of 
this  low  villain,  and  cursing  the  fate  that  forced  him  to 
stoop  to  such  stratagems,  he  hastily  returned  a  few  lines  to 
the  doctor,  appointing  to  meet  him  the  following  day  at 
noon,  at  Brandon,  the  next  station  to  Rutledge,  distant 
about  twelve  miles,  intending  to  send  his  baggage  on  in  the 
train  in  which  he  should  start,  and  remaining  an  hour  at 
Brandon  with  the  doctor,  should  go  on  himself  in  the  next 
train.  By  this,  he  would  avoid  suspicion  and  meet  the  per 
secutor  on  neutral  ground.  He  found  no  difficulty  in  leav 
ing  the  cars  unobserved,  and  repairing  to  the  inn  he  had 
appointed  for  rendezvous. 

The  bar-room  was  crowded  with  passengers  for  the  cars 
going  west,  so,  an  unnoticed  guest,  he  awaited  with  grow 
ing  impatience  the  keeping  of  his  appointment.  Half  sus 
pecting  that  the  man's  object  was  to  keep  him  back,  and 
make  him  lose  the  train,  his  impatience  and  vexation  knew 
no  bounds,  as  the  hour  slowly  waned  and  no  one  appeared. 
The  train  came  rushing  through  the  town,  paused  a  mo 
ment,  and  rushed  on,  and  his  last  chance  for  that  day  had 
passed.  For  one  moment  he  had  resolved  to  defy  his  per 
secutor,  and  ^scape  him  once  and  forever ;  but  he  knew 
that  before  another  sunset  his  secret  would  be  published, 
and  what  was  this  vexation  to  that  ruin  ?  As  the  crowd 
hurried  from  the  tavern  to  the  cars,  a  horseman  had 
alighted  at  the  door,  and  Victor  shrunk  back  with  a  guilty 
feeling  of  humiliation  and  fear  as  he  recognized  Mr.  Rut- 
ledge.  What  a  degrading  bondage  was  this  for  a  man  of 
honor — what  a  damnable  humiliation  !  To  be  skulking 
away  from  tiie  man  whom,  a  few  hours  ago,  he  had  met  aa 


RUTLEDGE.  411 

his  host  and  his  equal.  To  be  waiting  submissively  the 
pleasure  of  a  low  villain,  whose  greedy  cunning  and  mean 
rascality  marked  him  below  the  revenge  of  a  gentleman. 

"  It  shall  end,"  muttered  Victor,  between  his  teeth,  as  he 
screened  himself  from  the  sight  of  the  new  comer,  who  had 
entered  the  bar-room.  He  was  engaged  for  several  minutes 
in  conversation  with  the  bar-keeper,  left  a  message  for  a 
neighboring  workman,  paid  a  bill  for  the  cartage  of  some 
timber,  and  was  about  leaving  the  room,  when  his  eye  fell 
upon  a  note  that  was  lying  on  a  table  near  the  door ;  and 
Victor's  dark  cheek  mantled  with  shame  and  vexation,  as, 
taking  it  up,  Mr.  Rutledge  read,  in  a  tone  of  surprise : 

"Mr.  Victor  Viennet.  To  be  left  at  the  Brandon 
Shades." 

"  When  was  this  brought  here  ?"  he  inquired  of  the  man 
behind  the  bar. 

"  This  morning,  sir,  I  think,"  he  returned.  "  A  man  fronj 
your  village  came  with  it — a  dark,  thick-set  fellow,  if  I'm 
not  mistaken ;  one  of  the  hands  from  the  factory." 

'•  And  no  one  has  called  for  it — no  one  answering  to  that 
name  has  been  here  ?" 

"  Not  to  my  knowledge,  sir." 

Mr.  Rutledge  knit  his  brow,  and  paced  the  floor  uneasily. 
The  haughty  curl  of  his  lip,  as  he  glanced  again  at  the  note, 
made  the  blood  boil  in  Victor's  veins.  It  was  almost  im 
possible  to  keep  back  the  defiant  words  that  rushed  to  his 
lips ;  but  detection  would  be  fatal  now,  and  he  remained 
motionless,  while  Mr.  Rutledge,  crossing  over  to  the  bar 
keeper,  said,  in  a  lower  tone : 

"You  will  oblige  me  by  noticing  who  comes  for  that 
note,  and  by  what  way  he  returns.  I  will  stop  here  on  my 
return  from  Renwick,  before  night." 

The  man  promised  obsequiously,  and  Mr.  Rutledge  left 
the  room.  Victor  only  waited  to  hear  his  horse's  hoofs  die 
away  down  the  street,  and  to  see  the  bar-keeper's  attention 
fully  engaged  with  a  group  of  jovial  mechanics  just  entering 


4:12  KCTLEDGE. 

for  then  noon-day  drink,  to  leave  his  place  of  concealment^, 
and  possessing  himself  hastily  of  the  note,  opened  it  care- 
fully,  and  abstracting  the  contents,  substituted  a  business  ^ 
circular  which  he  had  in  his  pocket,  sealed  up  the  envelope 
again,  threw  it  on  the  table,  and  left  the  room  by  a  side- 
door. 

He  had  walked  some  distance  down  the  street  before  he 
ventured  to  read  the  letter,  which  proved,  of  course,  to  be 
from  Dr.  Hugh,  apologizing  for  the  delay,  but  saying  that 
it  would  be  impossible  for  him  to  be  at  Brandon  before  four 
o'clock.  At  that  hour  he  should  hope  to  find  Mr.  Viennet 
"at  the  Shades,  as  first  named,  etc. 

"  The  Shades  "  was  the  last  place  where  he  desired  to 
sue  him  now,  so  he  determined  to  walk  forward  on  the  road 
to  Rutledge,  and  meet  him  on  the  Avay.  It  was  a  hot  and 
dusty  road,  upon  which  the  afternoon  sun  shone  down  un 
mercifully,  but  the  heat  and  the  dust  were  unheeded  and 
indifferent  to  the  over-wrought  and  exasperated  traveller. 
The  exercise  and  the  fatigue  of  walking  were  in  some  mea 
sure  a  relief  to  his  strained  nerves,  and  without  stopping  to 
reflect,  he  hurried  fiercely  on,  till  eight  miles  of  the  twelve 
had  been  accomplished.  Something  familiar  in  the  road 
had  drawn  his  attention  to  his  locality,  and  warned  him  of 
his  nearness  to  Rutledge.  It  had  been  so  lonely  and  mo 
notonous  a  road  before  that,  his  attention  had  not  been 
attracted  to  it ;  he  had  passed  the  last  farmhouse  three  or 
four  miles  back,  and  only  paused  now,  struck  by  the  famili 
arity  of  the  Hemlock  Hollow  road,  leading  off  at  the  left. 
It  was  now  only  four  miles  to  the  village,  and  he  stopped, 
resolved  to  await  Dr.  Hugh  here. 

It  was  no  balm  to  his  vexed  and  angry  mood,  to  remem 
ber  how  near  he  was  to  what  was  at  once  dearest  and  most 
unattainable  to  him.  It  was  no  soother  to  his  wounded 
pride,  to  feel  that  he  was  skulking  like  a  thief  around  the 
place  where  for  weeks  he  had  been  entertained  as  a  guest ; 
and  as  hour  after  hour  dragged  on,  and  no  one  approached 


BUTLKDGE.  418 

down  the  lonely  road,  his  impatience  grew  into  L  kind  of 
frenzy,  and  before  the  glaring  sun  had  sunk  behind  the 
woods,  and  the  thick,  dull  twilight  had  crept  slowly  over 
the  gloomy  hollow,  from  an  angry  and  exasperated,  he  had 
become  a  revengeful  and  desperate  man. 

It  was  in  this  mood  that  his  persecutor  met  him.  It  was 
when  all  the  venomous  rancor  that  a  long  subjection  had 
bred  in  his  haughty  nature,  was  roused  to  its  iitmost,  that 
the  interview  for  which  Dr.  Hugh  had  schemed,  and  planned, 
and  lied,  took  place.  Cold  and  cunning,  plausible  and  imr 
perturbable,  he  met  a  man  with  whose  keenest  feelings  he 
had  been  playing  for  years,  and  who  was  even  then  lacerated 
to  madness  by  insults  and  indignities  that  would  have  roused 
a  tamer  nature.  Some  fiend  was  blinding  his  eyes  surely, 
and  lulling  him  into  security,  that  he  did  not  feel  a  warning 
throb  of  fear  as  he  rode  into  the  lonely  hollow,  and  through 
the  dusky  twilight  discerned  the  waiting  form  of  him  he 
had  wronged  so  deeply.  Some  luring  devil  put  into  his 
mouth  the  cold  and  sneering  words  with  which  he  greeted 
him — the  fool-hardy  and  contemptuous  bravado  with  which 
he  taunted  him.  Beyond  any  length  he  had  ever  gone  be« 
fore,  he  now  dared,  claiming  his  power  over  him,  defying 
him  to  disdain  it,  and  threatening  him  with  instant  expo 
sure  if  he  dared  leave  America. 

And  when  Victor,  driven  to  desperation,  and  quivering 
with  passion,  turned  fiercely  upon  him  and  defied  him  to  do 
it-  from  this  hour  he  cared  not  whether  it  was  known  or 
not,  the  cunning  fiend  in  the  wretch's  bosom  prompted  him 
to  ask  if  he  had  grown  tired  of  his  pretty  mistress  so  soou_ 
that  he  gave  her  up  so  easily  ?  Or  did  he  flatter  himself 
that  the  haughty  girl,  at  whose  feet  he  had  been  so  long, 
would  continue  her  hardly-won  smiles  when  she  knew  him 
for  a  nameless,  low-born  adventurer,  hiding  the  stain  of  his 
birth  at  the  cost  of  his  honor  ? 

"  You  may  tell  it !  You  may  proclaim  it  the  length  and 
breadth  of  the  land !  Who  will  believe  you,  low  villain  and 


4:14  EUTLEDGE. 

known  knave  as  you  are,  against  the  worn  and  credit  of  a 
gentleman?  Who  will  believe  your  paltry  version  of  the 
delirium  of  a  lever,  that  none  but  you  heard — none  but  you 
interpreted  ?  They  will  ask  you  for  proofs — what  then  ?" 

"  I  will  give  them  proofs.  I  will  tell  them  more  than  you 
know  yourself  of  the  story  of  your  birth,  and  prove  it  by 
more  damning  proofs  than  you  have  dreamed  existed.  You 
doubt  me  ?  You  defy  and  mock  the  threat  ?  Listen  !  At 
this  moment  I  hold  that  about  me  that  would  prove  the 
tale  I  tell  to  be  as  true  as  heaven,  and  would  send  you 
branded  to  lower  depths  of  shame  than  you  have  ever 
known.  I  hold  it  but  till  you  shall  dare  to  thwart  me,  till 
you  shall  dare  to  to  set  a  foot  on  foreign  shores,  and  then 
the  world — the  woman  that  you  love — the  friends  you  trust 
— your  gloating  enemies — shall  have  the  story,  and  shall  see 
its  proof!" 

The  words  hissed  through  the  dead,  dull,  twilight  of  the 
still  night,  and  smote  like  livid  fire  on  the  brain  of  him  who 
heard  them — on  his  overwrought  and  maddened  brain — and 
shot  through  every  pulse,  and  tingled  like  wild-fire  in -his 
veins.  The  whispers  of  hell  crept  into  his  tempted  soul; 
there  was  no  light  in  the  heavens  above — there  was  none  on 
the  dark  earth ;  the  stih1  night  had  no  voice  to  breathe  the 
things  that  should  be  done ;  hell  had  no  torments  wrorse 
than  these,  and  these  he  might  be  free  from  with  one  blow ! 
one  cunning,  short,  sharp  blow — one  quick,  well-aimed,  un 
erring  blow !  It  would  revenge  him — free  him — restore 
him  to  peace — give  him  back  his  love. 

If  there  is  joy  in  heaven  over  one  sinner  that  repents, 
what  must  there  be  of  demoniac  triumph  in  the  vaults  of 
hell,  when  another  yields  to  sin — a  fresh  soul  is  lost !  What 
mad  exultation  and  unholy  joy  must  have  echoed  in  the 
regions  of  the  damned,  as  the  last  cry  of  the  murdered  man 
died  away  among  the  whispering  tree-tops  and  gloomy 
depths  of  Hemlock  Hollow!  and  Victor  Viennet  pressed 
MB  blood-stained  hand  before  his  eves  to  blot  out,  tha  i 


KTJTLEDGE.  415 

that  now  neither  time,  nor  sleep,  nor  anything  save  death 
could  efface  from  his  guilty  vision. 

A  horror,  of  such  fear  as  none  but  murderers  know,  fell 
upon  him  as  he  bent  over  that  ghastly  corpse,  hardly  still 
from  the  death-struggle  yet — hardly  cold  in  the  life-blood 
that  his  hand  had  spilled.  He  had  not  feared  his  foe  in  life 
with  such  palpitating  fear  as  noAV,  when,  with  eager, 
trembling  hands,  he  searched,  unresisted,  for  the  fatal  proof 
that  he  had  threatened  him  with.  That  found,  he  no  longer 
strove  to  resist  the  impulse  of  flight,  and  through  the  black 
ness  and  stillness  of  that  night,  chased  by  such  terror  and 
such  remorse  as  God  suffers  the  dead  to  avenge  themselves 
with,  he  fled  from  the  sight  of  the  dead  and  the  justice  of 
the  living. 

But  the  morning  found  him  a  baffled  and  a  desperate 
man.  The  news  had  spread  far  and  wide,  the  country  was 
alive  with  it.  A  large  reward  had  been  offered  for  the 
apprehension  of  the  murderer,  and  no  boor  within  miles 
around  but  tried  his  best  to  earn  it,  and  sharpened  up  his 
sluggish  wTits,  and  stood  his  watch,  and  scoured  the  woods, 
with  incredible  activity.  It  soon  became  apparent,  though, 
to  the  wretched  fugitive,  that  there  was  one  on  his  track 
who  brought  more  knowledge  of  the  facts  to  the  chase  than 
his  compeers,  or,  indeed,  than  he  chose  to  own.  One  there 
was,  who  night  and  day  dogged  and  hunted  him  with  un 
flagging  energy  and  terrible  certainty,  and  from  whom  he 
knew  he  had  no  chance  of  escape  if  once  he  left  the  woods 
and  high  lands  and  took  to  the  open  country.  There  was 
only  one  hope,  that  of  eluding  and  wearing  him  out,  and 
back  he  plunged  into  the  woods  again,  and  night  and  day 
fought  desperately  against  his  fate.  He  had  seen  his  pur 
suer  pass  almost  within  pistol-shot  of  him,  and  had  recog 
nized  in  him  one  who  added  the  spur  of  malice  to  the  sordid 
love  of  gold  that  animated  the  others.  It  was  the  dread  of 
losing  his  game,  and  putting  others  on  the  track,  that  kept 
turn  from  divulging  what  he  knew,  which  was  enough  to 


416  RUTLEDGE. 

fasten  the  murder  upon  the  man  to  meet  whom,  to  his 
knowledge,  the  doctor  Lad  started  on  the  evening  of  his 
murder.  And  much  more  he  might  have  told,  of  concerted 
plans  to  dog  and  waylay  the  young  stranger,  and  to  keep 
him  in  their  power — of  malicious  watching,  and  intriguing, 
and  vindictive  hatred  and  cunning,  and  cruel  purposes.  But 
this  he  kept  in  his  own  vile  breast,  and,  inspired  "by  thirst 
for  blood  and  love  of  gold,  he  pursued  with  deadly  vigilance 
the  murderer  of  the  man  whose  tool  and  accomplice  he  had 
been. 

The  third  night  of  this  unequal  warfare  was  waning ;  the 
fugitive,  worn  out  and  hopeless,  had  resolved  to  end  it ;  he 
had  lost  all  privilege  to  hope,  all  right  to  love,  and  without 
these  what  was  life  worth  ? 

The  breaking  dawn  showed  him  that  he  was  in  the  pine- 
grove  that  bordered  Rutledge  lake.  He  felt  no  fear  at  the 
danger  of  his  nearness  to  detection ;  he  had  done  with  fear 
now;  what  malice  his  enemies  had  to  wreak  must  be 
wreaked  on  his  dead  body ;  and  God  ftavf  pity  on  the  only 
one  of  all  the  world  who  would  suffer  pain  ei.  shame  from 
his  disgrace! 

Parting  the  thick  branches,  he  m^  juic  way  down  to 
the  water's-edge.  In  the  dim  light  of  da#-u,  the  lake  spread 
calm  and  unruffled  before  him,  but  what  was  this  that  lay 
so  dark  and  mptionless  among  the  reeds  and  lily-pads,  not 
a  stone's  throw  from  the  shore  ?  Dark  and  motionless  as 
the  haunting  memory  of  that  corpse  in  the  black  Hollow; 
nothing  but  flesh  and  blood  ever  showed  so  dumb  and  hor 
rible  through  the  grey  light — nothing  but  death  ever  lay  so 
still  as  that.  It  wTas  the  stark  and  lifeless  form  of  his  enemy 
tnat  he  looked  upon,  and  dying  hope  started  up  and  whis 
pered  of  reprieve ;  ah1  might  not  be  over  yet,  and  suicide 
and  temptation  drew  back  chagrined.  It  looked  almost 
like  a  mercy  from  the  Heaven  he  had  outraged  that  th« 
only  tongue  that  could  have  betrayed  him  had  been  stilled 
in  death,  ai:i  that  not  by  his  hand,  and  a  dumb  feeJ.ing  of 


K  U  T  L  1C  1)  G  E  .  417 

gratitude  wanned  his  heart  and  melted  him  into  something 
like  repentance  toward  the  Father  and  the  Heaven  he  had 
sinned  against. 

Now  flight  was  clear  and  almost  easy  ;  once  safely  beyond 
the  neighborhood  of  Rutledge,  there  would  be  nothing  to 
prevent  his  escaping  to  Canada ;  no  suspicion  as  yet  had 
been  attached  to  his  name,  and  no  one  need  know  that  he 
had  not  fulfilled  his  intention  of  sailing  at  the  time  he  had 
mentioned,  till  he  was  safely  embarked  from  Halifax. 

But  then  love  stepped  in,  and  pleaded  for  one  last  look — 
one  last  embrace — before  the  life-long  separation  that  his 
crime  had  doomed  him  to ;  what  could  one  day  more  or 
less  endanger  him  ?  And  Fate,  baffled  of  his  ruin  at  one 
hand,  now  lured  him  into  this  worse  snare,  and  he  yielded. 
Hiding  himself  through  the  day  in  the  dense  thicket  that 
covered  the  opposite  bank  of  the  lake,  he  had  ventured 
forth  at  twilight,  and  by  bold  manoeuvre  and  sharpened  cun 
ning,  had  obtained  an  interview  with  Kitty.  Not  one  girl 
in  a  thousand  would  have  been  capable  of  what  he  required 
of  her — not  one  in  a  thousand  would  have  been  willing  or 
trustworthy ;  but  Kitty  was  as  true  as  steel ;  her  keen  wita 
were  equal  to  the  task,  and  though  she  only  guessed  the 
truth,  the  rack  and  torture  could  not  have  won  it  from  her. 
Before  she  dressed  me  for  the  evening,  she  had  dressed  Vic 
tor  in  the  coarse  domino  that  she  had  made  since  twilight  foi 
him,  out  of  the  black  stuff  that  had  lain  so  many  years  in 
the  trunk  upstairs,  forgotten  and  unused  since  the  last  time 
that  the  household  was  in  mourning.  She  had  brought 
about  the  meeting  and  recognition  between  us,  and  now 
watched  anxiously  for  us,  no  doubt,  somewhere  in  the 
shrubbery. 

We  were  both  but  too  unconscious  of  the  flight  of  the 
moments  now  so  precious,  when  Kitty,  with  hurried  hand, 
pushed  aside  the  branches  of  the  thicket,  and  sprang  down 
the  ravine. 

"  Fly,  fly  for  your  life,  Mr.  Victor !  You  are  lost,  i/  j o» 
18* 


RUTLEDGE. 

stop  for  a  moment .  The  officers  are  at  the  Louse ;  they 
say  a  suspicious  person  has  been  seen  hanging  about  the 
grounds,  and  master  has  given  them  permission  to  search 
the  outhouses  and  the  premises,  and  they  say  the  police  are 
swarming  all  around.  My  dear  young  lady,  let  him  go ! 
Oh,  that  I  should  see  you  in  such  trouble  I" 

"  But  where  shah1  I  go  !"  murmured  Victor,  burying  his 
face  in  his  hands.  "  I  see  no  safety  anywhere ;  the  blood 
hounds  are  on  my  track.  It  would  have  been  easy  to  die 
this  morning  !  Why  did  I  shrink  from  it  then  ?" 

"Kitty!"  I  gasped,  "can  you  think  of  no  place — no 
where  that  we  can  hide  him  ?" 

"  None !  They  will  search  the  barn  and  stables.  There's 
not  an  inch  of  ground  about  the  place  they'll  spare." 

"  And  the  house  ;  have  they  a  warrant  for  that  ?" 

"They  have  searched  the  house,  they  had  gone  nearly 
through  it  before  I  knew  anything  about  it ;  I  was  watch 
ing  for  you  outside." 

"  Then,  Kitty,  the  house  is  the  safest  place,  if  they  are 
out  of  it ;  and,  if  we  could  only  get  him  there,  there  is  one 
room  where  he  would  be  safe !" 

Kitty  started  with  a  keen  look  as  she  caught  my  meaning. 

"  Heaven  help  us  !  If  we  only  could — I  can  think  of 
one  way — if  you  wouldn't  be  afraid  " 

"  No,  no,  I  wouldn't  be  afraid  of  anything,"  I  said,  lay 
ing  my  hand  in  Victor's.  "  Speak  quick." 

"  Mr.  Victor  must  give  me  his  domino,  and  you  and  I 
must  watch  our  chance  and  go  boldly  in  at  the  front  door ; 
there's  no  other  way,  there  are  people  all  over  the  hall  and 
piazza,  and  plenty  saw  you  go  out  together,  and  will  notice 
if  you  come  back  alone ;  there  has  been  a  great  deal  of  sus 
picion  about  the  black  domino,  and  master,  I  know,  is  on 
the  look-out  fox  r.im,  and  very  likely  will  try  to  find  out ; 
and  no  harm's  done,  you  know,  if  I'm  found  in  it ;  and  then 
soon  as  I'm  ;n  thfi  house  I'll  slip  upstairs,  and  throw  down 
the  pink  domino  that  Miss  Josephine  has  taken  off  by  thif 


KUTLEDGE.  419 

time,  and  Mr.  Victor  will  wait  for  it  at  the  west  corner  of 
house,  where  it  is  more  retired  than  anywhere  else ;  he'll 
put  it  on  where  it's  dark  there,  in  the  shade  of  the  trees, 
and  join  you  on  the  piazza,  where  you'll  wait  for  him,  and 
then  try  to  get  him  upstairs  while  they're  at  supper.  I'll 
have  the  keys  ready  and  get  everybody  out  of  the  way 
It's  the  only  thing  we  can  do — there's  not  a  minute  to 
lose !" 

It  was  desperate  enough,  but  I  saw  no  other  way.  Whis 
pering  a  courage  and  confidence  I  did  not  feel  to  Victor, 
I  hurried  off  his  domino,  and  Kitty  threw  it  over  her  dress. 
There  was  no  time  for  fear ;  I  did  not  stop  to  think,  or  I 
should  not  have  shaken  off  Victor's  grasp  so  hastily  as  I 
did,  when  we  reached  the  shrubbery,  nor  have  parted  with 
s^>  hurried  an  adieu,  only  imploring  him  to  be  calm  and  cau 
tious,  and  not  to  lose  a  minute  in  gaining  the  west  corner 
of  the  house. 

"Alas !"  murmured  Kitty,  as  we  hurried  up  the  steps, 
"  there's  a  hundred  chances  to  one  we  don't  see  him  again  1 
It'll  be  just  God's  mercy  and  nothing  else,  if  he  gets  into 
the  house.  There  goes  the  constable  now,  and  the  men  " — 

"  Which  way  ?"  I  gasped. 

"Down  toward  the  garden.  Heaven  help  him!  If  he 
only  sees  them  in  time !  Take  my  arm,  Miss,  and  come  in  ; 
we  can't  stop  uow  to  see  whether  they  meet  him ;  they're 
watching  us  on  the  piazza." 

I  needed  aU  the  support  of  Kitty's  arm  as  I  entered  the 
hall ;  the  glare  of  the  lights  made  me  sick  and  faint,  and 
she  hurried  me  to  a  chair. 

"  Don't  wait  a  minute  to  attend  to  me,"  I  murmured^ 
"  hurry  upstairs." 

"  It  won't  do  yet ;  everybody  is  looking  at  us  ;  I  must 
sit  down  and  talk  to  you  awhile." 

A  gentleman,  Mr.  Mason,  approached  me,  and  began  to 
rally  me  upon  keeping  up  my  incognito  so  long,  the  rest  of 
the  maskers,  he  said,  had  consented  to  reveal  themselves. 


420  RUTLEDGE. 

"  Say  you  won't  unmask  till  supper,"  \vh  >pered  Kitty. 

I  mechanically  repeated  the  words.  Others  came  up  to 
talk  to  me,  there  was  evidently  some  curiosity  felt  about 
me ;  I  knew  that  I  was  not  recognized.  I  can  hardly  tell 
how  I  found  answers  to  the  questions  put  to  me ;  the  ques 
tioners  must  have  been  satisfied  with  very  vague  and  sense 
less  responses,  if  mine  satisfied  them.  Kitty,  at  once  prompt 
and  self-possessed,  relieved  me,  and  kept  up  her  own  part, 
disguising  her  voice,  and  answering  readily. 

Unable  to  control  my  agony  at  the  delay  any  longer,  1 
exclaimed  suddenly :  "  I  feel  faint,  won't  you  (turning  to 
the  black  domino)  won't  you  get  the  bottle  of  salts  I  left 
in  the  dressing-room  ?" 

Her  height  and  step  nearly  betrayed  her ;  and  Mr.  Mason 
catching  sight  of  a  woman's  foot  as  she  ran  up  the  stairs, 
proclaimed  the  fact,  and  excited  a  general  exclamation  of 
wonder. 

"  Never  saw  a  character  better  sustained — everybody  had 
thought  it  a  man  all  the  evening." 

I  listened  for  the  opening  of  the  window  in  the  west 
room  overhead,  then  for  Kitty's  step  as  she  stole  out.  1 
I  heard  it  through  all  the  din  of  music  and  of  voices.  Then 
came  a  dreadful  suspense ;  how  to  get  rid  of  the  people,  how 
to  get  on  the  piazza,  I  could  not  tell.  Victor  might  even 
now  be  waiting  for  me,  a  moment  more  might  be  too  late ; 
the  officers  might  at  any  instant  return.  Just  then  supper 
was  announced,  and,  "  now  you  have  promised  to  unmask, 
now  you  must  tell  us  who  you  are,"  exclaimed  the  gen 
tlemen. 

"  Not  while  you  are  ah1  here,"  I  exclaimed,  "  I  will  not 
take  off  my  mask  to-night  unless  you  all  go  to  supper  and 
leave  me." 

It  was  long  before  I  rid  myself  of  my  admirers  ;  the  last 
one  was  dismissed  to  bring  me  an  ice,  and  the  instant  I  was 
alone,  I  stole  out  on  the  piazza  and  round  to  the  appointed 
spot,  and  sheltering  myself  from  sight,  waited  with  a  throb- 


K  U  T  L  E  D  G  K  421 

bing  heart  the  appearance  of  the  rose-«olored  domino.  But 
the  throbs  sunk  to  faint  and  sickening  slowness  as  minute 
after  minute  passed  and  no  one  came  ;  dull,  slow,  torturing 
minutes  that  seemed  to  count  themselves  out  by  the  drop 
ping  of  my  life's  blood,  each  one  left  me  so  much  fainter 
and  more  deathlike  than  before.  Reason  and  endurance 
began  to  give  way  under  the  intense  pressure,  the  laughter 
and  merriment  from  within  rang  hideously  in  my  ears,  the 
gaudy  lamps  and  glaring  lights  swam  before  me,  I  clung  to 
tbe  balcony  for  support ;  it  seemed  to  reel  from  my  grasp, 
and  staggering  forward,  I  should  have  fallen,  but  for  the 
arm  of  some  one  that  approached,  and  hurried  to  my  side. 
He  pushed  back  my  mask  and  in  a  moment  the  fresh  air  in 
my  face  revived  me,  I  raised  my  head  and  cast  an  agonized 
look  down  the  walk  that  led  to  the  shrubbery,  and  this  time 
it  was  hope  and  not  despair  that  followed  the  look. 

"  Pray  leave  me,"  I  said  imperiously  to  my  attendant, 
"  I  am  well  now,  I  had  rather  be  alone." 

It  was  only  when  he  turned  to  leave  me  that  I  saw  it  was 
Mr.  Rutledge  ;  the  figure  that  approached  down  the  walk 
claimed  all  my  thoughts.  It  faltered  a  moment  irresolutely 
on  the  steps. 

"  Courage !"  I  whispered  putting  my  hand  in  his.  "  Fol 
low  me  to  this  window,  and  we  will  cross  the  parlors,  they 
are  nearly  clear." 

I  knew  that  the  spirit  of  the  man  I  led  was  broken  hope 
lessly,  he  who  had  been  so  brave  and  reckless  !  At  every 
step  he  wavered  and  held  back  ;  "  I  cannot,"  he  murmured 
shrinking  as  we  reached  the  hall,  now  filling  with  the  gay 
throng  from  the  supper  room  and  library  and  the  adjoining 
balconies.  I  hurried  him  forward,  nerved  with  a  new 
courage ;  I  braved  the  inquisitive  eyes  of  the  crowd  that 
thronged  us,  I  had  a  bold  answer  for  all  their  questions,  a 
repartee  for  all  their  jests,  and  so  I  fought  my  way  to  the 
foot  of  the  stairs. 

"  Go  up,"  I  whispered  to  Victor,  pushing  him  forward 


4:22  KUTLEDGE. 

and  turning,  1  kept  back  with  laugh  and  raillery  the  knot  of 
people  clustered  round  the  landing-place. 

"  You  shall  be  mobbed !"  cried  Grace.  "  We  all  un 
masked  half  an  hour  ago.  No  one  has  a  right  to  invisibility 
now !" 

"I  am  just  going  up  to  unmask,  but  you  will  not  let 
me." 

"  Will  you  promise  to  come  instantly  down  ?"  asked  Mr. 
Mason. 

"  Instantly." 

"  Will  you  dance  the  next  set  with  me  ?"  asked  Ellerton. 

"  With  great  pleasure." 

"  Then  it's  but  fair  we  should  leave  her,"  said  Phil,  and 
they  moved  away.  Kitty,  as  I  reached  the  upper  hall,  made 
me  a  hasty  gesture  to  turn  out  the  light  at  the  head  of  the 
stairs.  I  obeyed,  and  in  a  moment  the  lights  at  that  end  of 
the  hall  were  all  extinguished,  and  only  one  left  burning 
dimly  at  the  other  extremity. 

"  Quick !"  whispered  Kitty.  "  Mrs.  Roberts  is  in  her 
room.  I  have  the  key." 

We  hurried  toward  her,  groping  along  the  dark  passage. 
The  heavy  wardrobe  moved  from  its  place  with  a  dull, 
rumbling  sound ;  the  key  grated  in  the  unused  lock. 

"Quick!  quick!"  whispered  Victor.  "There  is  a  step 
on  the  stairs  !"  There  was  a  cruel  moment  of  suspense  as 
the  key  refused  to  turn  ;  Victor  held  my  hand  in  his  with  a 
grasp  of  iron  ;  a  low  cry  of  despair  burst  from  Kitty,  as  the 
step  on  the  stairs  mounted  quickly.  It  was  a  matter  of  life 
and  death  indeed  ;  discovery  seemed  inevitable  now. 

"  Push,  push  it  with  all  your  might,"  I  cried  in  an  agony^ 
"perhaps  it  will  give  way!" 

"  Thank  heaven  !"  murmured  Victor,  as  it  yielded  to  her 
desperate  strength.  In  less  time  than  it  takes  to  speak  it, 
the  door  closed  upon  him,  the  wardrobe  was  pushed  back 
to  its  place. 

"  What  is  the  meaning  of  this  ?"  said  tiie  stern  voice  oi 


KUTLEDGE.  423 

r,he  master  at  the  head  of  the  stairs.  "  Why  are  the  lights 
put  out  ?  Who  is  there  ?  Answer  me." 

Kitty  thrust  me  into  the  nearest  room,  and  advanced  to 
meet  her  angry  master. 

"  It's  me,  sir — Kitty ;  and  I  was  just  come  up  myself  to 
see  what  had  made  it  so  dark  up  here ;  I  think,  sir,  that  the 
uorth  windows  there  have  been  left  open,  and  the  wind  has 
come  up  strong  from  that  way,  and  the  draught  has  put 
them  out.  It  was  very  careless  of  Mrs.  Roberts  not  to  look 
after  it,"  she  continued,  busying  herself  in  relighting  the 
lamps. 

"  Kitty,"  said  Mr.  Rutledge  in  a  voice  that  I  knew  had 
more  terror  for  the  girl,  than  any  other  in  the  world, 
"  your  falsehoods  are  very  ready,  but  they  can  never  deceive 
me,  remember  that.  Tell  me  promptly  who  put  the  lamps 
out." 

"  The  fact  is,  master,"  she  said  dropping  her  eyes  and 
looking  contrite  as  she  approached  him,  "  my  poor  young 
lady  has  had  a  fainting-fit  down  stairs,  and  she  wanted  to 
get  to  her  own  room  without  anybody  recognizing  her,  so 
I  turned  the  lights  out,  for  several  of  the  young  gentlemen 
were  waiting  about  the  stairs  to  see  what  room  she'd  go  to." 

"  That  lie  is  even  more  ingenious  than  the  first.  It  is 
useless  to  question  you  further  ;  you  do  not  know  how  to 
speak  the  truth  even  when  it  is  the  best  poh'cy.  Bring 
that  light  and  follow  me." 

"  Don't  scold  Kitty,"  I  said,  faintly,  coming  forward.  "  It 
was  my  fault,  I  wanted  the  lights  put  out.  I  thought  it 
would  do  no  harm,  just  for  a  moment,  but  I  beg  your 
pardon." 

Mr.  Rutledge  turned  abruptly  away  with  a  curling  lip. 
"  Mistress  and  maid  together  are  too  much  for  a  plain  man 
like  me.  I  accept  whatever  interpretation  you  choose  to 
put  xipoii  it."  And  he  strode  angrily  down  the  stairs. 

"  Take  off  your  domino  and  go  down  quick !"  exclaimed 
Kitty. 


424  R  n  PLEDGE. 

"  Oh  Kitty !  How  can  I  ?  I  can  hardly  stand,  I  am  so 
faint." 

"  No  matter,"  she  said,  inexorably.  "  Everybody  will  be 
wondering  if  you  don't  come,  and  there's  been  enough 
already !  Take  this,  Miss,  and  do  be  brave,  and  don't  give 
way." 

She  poured  me  out  a  dose  of  valerian ;  I  swallowed  it, 
submitted  unquestioningly  to  her  as  she  smoothed  my  hair, 
and  arranged  my  dress  and  sent  me  downstairs.  After 
that  it  is  all  a  misty  sort  of  dream  ;  I  danced  and  laughed 
with  a  gaiety  that  startled  all  who  had  seen  the  recent 
llstlessness  of  my  manner ;  I  was  daring,  coquettish,  bril 
liant  ;  I  hardly  knew  what  words  Avere  on  my  lips,  but  they 
must  have  been  light  and  merry,  for  the  others  laughed  and 
whispered:  "What  would  absent  friends  say  to  such  high 
spirits !"  and  arch  and  coquettish  I  turned  away  to  hide  the 
pang  their  words  awoke,  and  danced — danced  till  the  last 
guest  had  gone  and  the  tired  musicians  faltered  at  their 
task,  and  the  weary  members  of  the  household  eagerly 
turned  to  their  own  rooms.  Once  in  mine,  the  unnatural 
tension  of  my  nerves  gave  way ;  Kitty  laid  me  on  the  bed, 
and  for  hours,  I  fancy,  thought  it  an  even  chfjice  whethei 
1  ever  came  out  of  that  death- like  swoon  or  no  . 


CHAPTER  XXXIH. 

'•I  lived  on  and  on, 

As  if  my  heart  were  kept  beneath  a  glass 
And  everybody  stood,  all  eyes  and  ears. 
To  see  and  hear  it  tick." 

E.  B.  BROWNIN». 

*'  Mil.  RUTLEDGE,  sir  !"  exclaimed  the  captain,  vehemently, 
brin  ffinc;  his  hand  down  on  the  table  with  a  force  that  made 

O        O 

the  glasses  ring,  "  it's  my  opinion  that  there's  a  black  mys 
tery  to  be  unravelled  yet  about  that  murder.  It's  my 
opinion  that  all  our  ears  would  tingle  if  we  knew  the  truth. 
Certainly,  in  some  inexplicable  way,  this  place  is  connected 
with  it.  The  man  lurking  about  the  grounds,  the  footprints 
across  the  garden-beds,  the  cravat  found  at  the  old  summer- 
house — all  seem  to  point  out  this  neighborhood  as  his  hiding- 
place." 

"  I  cannot  see  that  exactly,  Captain  McGuffy,"  returned 
his  host.  "  I  acknowledge  that  there  is  a  mystery,  and  a 
dark  one,  yet  to  be  cleared  away  from  the  matter  ;  and  that 
tl.'e  murderer  may  have  taken  a  temporary  refuge  in  the 
woods  near  the  house,  is  a  possible,  though  not  an  infallible 
deduction  to  be  drawn  from  the  circumstances  you  have 
mentioned.  The  fact  of  garden-beds  defaced  with  foot 
prints  on  such  a  night  as  that  of  the  masquerade,  can  hardly 
excite  any  surprise  ;  and  as  to  the  suspicious-looking  person 
lurking  about  the  grounds  all  day,  why,  none  of  the  three 
witnesses  who  swear  to  having  seen  him,  can  at  all  describe 
his  appearance  or  occupation.  A  drunken  loafer  from  the 
village  sleeping  oft'  the  effects  of  a  night's  carouse  in  the 
shelter  of  our  woods,  is  a  much  more  simple  interpretation 
of  it,  to  my  mind." 

436 


426  K  U  T  L  E  D  G  E  . 

The  captain  shook  his  head.  "  I  cannot  agree  with  you, 
Bir  ;  I  cannot  think  that  that  cravat,  blood-stained  and  soiled, 
was  left  in  the  summer-house  by  any  village  loafer.  Vil 
lage  loafers,  sir,  do  not,  as  a  general  thing,  wear  such  cra 
vats,  nor  stain  them  with  anything  darker  than  the  drippings 
of  their  lager-bier." 

"  I  know  you'll  all  laugh  at  me,"  said  Ellerton  Wynkar, 
"  but,  absurd  as  it  is,  I  can't  help  thinking  I've  seen  thai. 

cravat  worn  by .     Good  heavens !  what's  the  matter 

now  !     Mrs.  Churchill,  your  niece  is  going  to  faint !" 

"  Oh  no  !"  said  Grace,  coolly  passing  me  a  glass  of  water. 
"  Only  turning  white  and  looking  distractingly  pretty,  then 
rallying  a  little,  and  looking  up  and  saying  faintly, '  I'm  bet 
ter,  thank  you,'  and  regaining  composure  gradually  and 
gracefully.  That's  the  programme.  We're  quite  used  to  it 
by  this  time.  When  I  have  a  fiance  who  must  go  to  Eu 
rope,  I  shall  be  perfected  in  the  art  of  graceful  grief  if  I  at 
tend  properly  to  the  example  I  have  now  before  me." 

"  There's  one  art  you're  not  perfected  in  at  all  events," 
sakt  Phil. 

"  What's  that,  bonnie  Phil ;  what's  that  ?" 

"  The  art  of  feeling,"  said  her  cousin,  shortly. 

"  Grace  is  thoughtless,"  said  her  mother,  and  entered 
into  an  apology  so  elaborate,  that  Phil  was  really  distressed, 
and  felt  that  he  had  been  most  unkind  and  unjust.  He  gave 
his  hand  to  Grace,  and  said,  with  an  honest  smile  : 

"  I  didn't  mean  any  reproach,  Gracic,  only  you  know  you 
are  a  tease !" 

"  But,  sir,"  continued  the  captain,  unable  to  relinquish  the 
subject  that  most  interested  him,  "  do  you  really  feel  that 
everything  has  been  done  toward  the  clearing  up  of  this 
mystery  that  lays  within  your  power  ?  Don't  you  think 
that  if  some  stronger  measures  were  taken,  some  more  de 
tectives  placed  on  the  track,  the  thing  might  be  ferreted 
out  ?  It's  aggravating  to  one's  feelings  to  think  that  the 
villain  maybe  within  pistol  shot  of  us,  and  get  clear  after  all." 


RUTLEDGE.  427 

"  It  makes  me  so  nervous,"  said  Ella  Wynkar,  "  I  can't 
sleep  at  night,  and  Josephine  makes  Frances  barricade  the 
doors  and  windows  as  if  we  were  preparing  to  stand  a 
siege." 

"  It's  truly  horrible,"  said  Josephine,  with  a  shudder.  "  I 
wouldn't  go  half  a  dozen  yards  from  the  house  alone  for 
any  consideration." 

"  Yes,  Joseph,  you  are  a  coward,  there's  no  denying  it. 
Mr.  Rutledge,  what  do  you  think  of  a  girl  of  her  age  look 
ing  in  all  the  closets,  and  even  the  bureau  drawers,  before 
she  goes  to  bed  at  night,  and  making  Frances  sit  beside  her 
till  she  gets  asleep  ?" 

"  I  really  think,"  said  Mr.  Rutledge,  rising  from  the  table, 
"  that  you  are  all  alarming  yourselves  unnecessarily.  Every 
precaution  has  been  taken  to  insure  the  arrest  of  any  sus 
picious  person,  and  there  is  no  danger  of  any  abatement  in 
the  zeal  and  activity  of  our  rustic  police.  The  woods  and 
neighborhood  are  swarming  with  volunteer  detectives,  and 
till  the  offer  of  the  reward  is  withdrawn,  you  may  rest 
assured  that  their  assiduity  will  not  be.  I  think  the  young 
ladies  may  omit  the  nightly  barricading,  and  excuse  Frances 
from  mounting  guard  after  eleven  o'clock.  I  should  not 
advise  your  walking  veiy  far  from  the  house  unattended, 
but  beyond  that,  really,  I  think  you  need  not  take  any 
trouble." 

"  And  really  .7"  think,"  muttered  the  captain,  as  we  moved 
into  the  hall,  "  that  he  takes  it  very  coolly.  Upon  my  word, 
I  didn't  think  he  was  the  man  to  let  such  a  thing  as  this  be 
passed  over  in  such  an  indifferent  way." 

"  God  bless  him  for  it !"  I  thought  in  my  heart.     . 

"  Stephen  is  waiting  at  the  door  to  speak  with  you,  sir,' 
said  Thomas  to  his  master.  Stephen's  face  expressed  such  a 
volume  of  alarm  and  importance,  that  we  involuntarily 
stopped  in  the  hall,  as  he  answered  Mr.  Rutledge's  inquiry 
as  to  his  errand. 

"  The  body  of  a  man,  sir,  has  just  been  found  in  the  lake 


428  BUTLEDGE. 

It  has  evidently  been  there  a  day  or  more.  The  men 
are  down  there,  sir  ;  I  came  immediately  up  to  lei  you 
know." 

Mr.  Rutledge  gave  a  hurried  glance  at  me,  as  he  said 
quickly : 

"  Possibly  one  of  the  laborers.  I  will  go  down  with  you 
at  once." 

Capt.  McGufty,  with  an  I-told-you-so  nod  to  Phil,  snatched 
his  hat,  and,  followed  by  the  other  gentlemen,  hurried  with 
Stephen  toward  the  lake.  The  ladies,  in  a  frightened  group, 
clustered  together  on  the  lawn  and  watched  them  from  a 
distance. 

How  well  I  could  have  told  them  who  it  was,  and  how 
long  the  bloated,  disfigured  corpse  had  lain  floating  among 
the  reeds  and  alder-bushes  at  the  head  of  the  lake !  How 
their  ears,  indeed,  would  tingle,  if  they  should  know  the 
quarter  part  of  wrhat  I  knew.  How  sleepless  and  terrified 
Josephine's  nights  might  well  be,  if  she  knew  that  a  single 
foot  of  brick  and  mortar  Avas  all  that  separated  her  from  the 
execrated  murderer,  with  the  horror  of  whose  crime  the 
country  rang.  How  doubly  aghast  she  would  be,  if  she 
knew  that  the  murderer  was  none  other  than  the  guest  she 
had  herself  invited  to  Rutledge — the  brilliant  and  clever 
man  whose  admiration  she  had  vainly  striven  to  obtain — the 
affianced  husband  of  her  cousin !  What  if  they  knew  all 
this?  What  if  my  brain  should  give  way  under  the  pressure 
of  this  dreadful  secret,  and  I  should  betray  all!  Sometimes 
I  really  thought  I  was  losing  my  reason ;  the  knowledge 
that  I  held  the  life  of  another  in  my  own  weak  hands,  made 
them  tremble  more. ;  the  keeping  of  the  secret  was  wearing 
my  very  life  away ;  sleepless  nights  and  wretched  days  were 
doing  their  sure  work  with  me,  and  the  terrible  excitement 
within,  shone  out  in  my  eyes  and  burned  in  a  crimson  spot 
on  each  white  cheek,  throbbed  in  my  quick  pulse  and 
capped  the  strength  and  vigor  of  my  being.  I  could  have 
wrestled  with  and  overcome  fear  and  timidity,  if  they  had 


BUT  LEDGE. 

t*en  all ;  I  could  have  been  brave  and  strong,  if  I  had  had 
but  his  sin  to  cover,  his  crime  to  hide;  if  I  had  been  true, 
if  my  own  heart  had  been  pure  of  sin,  I  could  have  borne  it. 
But  it  was  the  weight  of  remorse,  added  to  all  the  rest,  that 
crushed  me  to  the  dust.  It  was  remembering  how  great  a 
part  I  had  had  in  Victor's  sin,  that  took  all  courage  out  of 
my  heart.  If  I  had  not  deceived  him,  and  allowed  him  tc 
believe  I  loved  him — would  h%  not  now  have  been  safe  ? 
From  those  first  beginnings  of  pride  and  resentment,  I 
traced  my  sin  in  regard  to  Mm.  Whenever  they  had  got  a 
foothold,  the  soothing  flattery  of  Victor's  love  had  crept  in, 
to  allay  and  lull  the  pain  they  caused.  And  I  had  not 
remembered  to  pray  in  those  hours ;  I  had  trusted  to 
myself,  and  gone  on  sinning.  Just  so  far  as  I  had  been 
estranged  from  duty,  and  grown  cold  to  holy  things,  just  so 
far  had  I  gone  forward  in  the  path  which  had  now  brought 
me  to  such  terrible  bewilderment.  Whenever  I  had 
prayed  and  repented,  his  influence  and  the  temptation 
of  his  presence  had  been  weakened  or  withdrawn  ;  when 
ever  I  had  listened  to  the  whispers  of  wounded  pride  or 
determined  resentment,  his  voice  had  been  at  my  ear,  his 
love  laid  at  my  feet.  When  little  Essie's  death  had  drawn 
my  thoughts  awhile  toward  heaven,  and  made  me  realize 
the  littleness  and  impotence  of  pride  and  wrath,  and  the 
insignificance  of  things  seen,  the  power  and  eternity  of 
things  unseen,  he  had  been  forgotten  and  indifferent ;  but 
so  soon  as  I  had  allowed  the  return  of  worldliness,  so  soon 
had  I  found  myself  snared  in  hypocrisy  and  deceit  toward 
him.  The  little  sins  of  every  day,  they  had  tempted  me  on 
to  where  I  now  stood.  It  was  so  easy  to  look  back  and  see 
it  all — how  one  slight  omission  of  duty  had  led  to  another — 
how  one  moment  of  indulgence  had  weakened  self-control — 
one  disregard  of  truth  had  grown  into  the  tyrant  sit 
from  which  I  could  not  now  release  myself;  struggle 
as  I  might,  I  was  helpless  in  its  grasp.  Every  step  bul 
plunged  me  deeper ;  every  word  was  but  a  fresh  oieceit. 


't30  BUTLEDGK. 

I  saw  Victor  tnat  evening  for  a  few  moments  ;  Kitty  had 
watched  long  for  a  safe  chance  to  admit  me.  Mrs.  Roberts, 
contrary  to  all  precedent,  had  taken  her  knitting  and 
seated  herself  in  one  of  the  hall  windows,  declaring  that  it 
was  the  coolest  place  in  the  house,  and  there  remained  the 
whole  afternoon.  There  was  nothing  to  induce  her  to  do  it 
but  the  obstinate  instincts  of  her  nature,  to  which  she  was 
ever  true.  She  may  have  had  some  lurking  suspicion  that 
there  was  "  something  going  on "  upstairs,  and  though 
entirely  ignorant  of  its  nature,  she  could  not  doubt  its  evil 
tendency,  believing  as  she  had  reason  to,  that'  Kitty  was 
concerned  in  it.  She  had  encountered  that  young  person 
on  the  stairs  after  dinner,  Avith  a  surreptitious  plate  of 
confectionery  and  fruit  from  dessert.  Kitty  had  readily 
answered  upon  demand,  that  it  was  for  her  young  lady ; 
and  Mrs.  Roberts  had  very  tartly  remarked  that  in  her 
time,  young  ladies  thought  it  best  manners  to  eat  as  much 
as  they  wanted  at  the  table,  and  not  take  the  credit  of  beiug 
delicate,  and  then  have  extra  plates  of  good  things  brought 
up  to  their  rooms.  Kitty  could  hardly  brook  the  implied 
taunt,  but  she  had  to  swallow  it.  She  hovered  anxiously 
around  all  the  afternoon,  inventing  all  manner  of  excuses  to 
get  Mrs.  Roberts  away,  but  to  no  avail,  and  it  was  only 
after  dusk,  when  she. had  at  last  withdrawn  to  order  tea, 
that  Kitty  eagerly  beckoned  me  to  follow  her  to  the  door 
of  the  hidden  room,  that  had  always  had  such  a  mysterious 
awe  in  my  eyes. 

As  I  crept  through  the  narrow  space  between  the  ward 
robe  and  the  door,  I  grasped  Kitty's  hand  with  an  involun 
tary  shudder.  "  Don't  go  ?  way,"  I  whispered. 

"  No,  Miss.  I'll  stay  jus\,  outside  the  door  and  watch^ 
and  you  must  come  the  very  minute  I  tap  at  it,  for  Mrs. 
Roberts  will  be  back  as  soon  as  ever  she  has  given  out 
the  things  for  tea.  I  won't  go  away,  don  t  be  afraid, 
Miss." 

The  twilight  was  too  dim  for  me  to  distinguish  anything 


RUTLEDGE.  431 

as  Kitty  closed  the  door  softly  behind  me,  and  I  groped  my 
way  into  the  room.  "  Victor !"  I  said,  in  a  whisper,  as  no 
sound  met  my  ear. 

A  dark  figure  between  me  and  the  faint  light  of  the 
window,  started  forward  as  I  spoke,  and,  in  another  mo 
ment,  my  hands  were  grasped  in  hands  as  cold  and 
tren  bling.  Did  it  give  me  a  shudder  to  remember  the 
work  those  hands  had  done  in  the  grey  shadowy  twilight, 
one  short  week  before  ?  I  tried  not  to  think  of  it.  I  tried 
to  remember  it  was  the  man  who  loved  me — who  had  risked 
his  life  for  my  love.  But  crime  and  remorse  had  strangely 
darkened  and  changed  him.  There  was  a  wild  sort  of  de 
spair  in  his  very  tenderness — a  fierce  recklessness  when  he 
spoke  of  the  future  ;  I  tried  in  vain  to  reassure  myself  and 
soothe  him,  but  I  quailed  before  a  nature,  beside  the  strength 
of  whose  passion,  all  that  I  had  known  or  seen  of  despair 
and  desperation  faded  into  insignificance.  A  weak  man 
can  sin  weakly,  and  bewail  it  feebly  and  with  tears :  a  strong 
man,  who  is  hurried  into  crime  by  the  very  intensity  and 
strength  of  his  nature,  turns  fiercely  upon  the  remorse  that 
besets  him ;  the  very  gall  of  bitterness  is  his  repentance — 
blood  and  curses  are  the  tears  he  sheds. 

Tenderness  and  confidence  shrunk  back  affrighted  from 
such  contact ;  I  trembled  in  his  grasp,  and  he  caught  a  sus 
picion  of  my  fear.  I  never  shall  forget  the  agony  of  the 
gesture  with  which  he  released  me,  and  turning  away,  bu 
ried  his  face  in  his  hands.  I  started  forward,  and  tried,  in 
faltering  accents,  to  assure  him  of — what  ?  The  words 
died  on  my  lips.  At  that  moment  there  was  a  hurried  tap 
at  the  door,  and  Kitty's  voice  whispered : 

"  Quick !" 

"  There  is  your  release  !"  he  exclaimed,  bitterly.  "  You 
have  done  your  duty ;  draw  a  long  breath,  and  hurry  back 
into  the  light  and  freedom  of  the  outer  world.  Quick !  I 
must  not  keep  you." 

"  iTou  are  wrong,"  I  murmured,  "  I  must  go,  but  it  is 


4:32  K  U  T  L  E  D  G  E  . 

just  as  dark  and  miserable  outside  to  me,  as  it  is  here  foi 
you.  Don't  fancy,  Victor,  that  there  is  any  pleasure  for  mo 
now." 

"  You  need  not  remind  me  of  that !"  he  exclaimed,  sink 
ing  down,  and  bowing  his  face  on  the  table  before  him. 
*'  You  need  not  remind  me  of  that !  I  know  I  have 
•dragged  you  down  with  me  in  my  fall,  and  it  is  the  cruellest 
thought  in  all  my  cruel  anguish  ;  but  you  shall  be  freed — be 
sure  you  shall  be  freed !" 

"  Why  will  you  talk  so  strangely,  Victor  ?  What  have 
I  done  to  make  you  doubt  me  now  ?  I  would  die  to  serve 
you — I  have  no  other  thought  than  how  to  save  you  from 
the  danger  that  threatens  " 

Kitty  shook  the  door  impatiently,  and  implored  me  to 
come  out. 

"  I  must  go,  Victor,"  I  whispered.  "  Will  you  not  speak 
to  me  ?  Good  night." 

I  bent  over  him,  and  touched  my  lip*  to  his  forehead, 
and  then  groped  my  way  hastily  to  the  door.  He  did  not 
move  or  speak,  and  I  turned  back  irresolutely,  to  beg  him 
for  a  word  of  forgiveness,  but  Kitty,  opening  the  door, 
cwght  me  by  the  hand,  and  pulled  me  out. 

"  They  are  all  asking  for  you  ;  Miss  Josephine  has  been 
upstairs  for  you,  and  when  she  came  down  and  said  you 
weren't  in  your  room,  master  looked  so  white,  and  started 
up  so  frightened,  that  the  others  all  caught  it  of  him,  and 
began  to  call  you  and  hunt  all  about  for  you ;  and  I  couldn't 
let  you  know,  for  old  Roberts  was  marching  up  and  down 
the  hall,  and  keeping  her  eyes  all  about  her.  She's  gone 
into  her  room  a  minute — now's  your  chance ;  run  right 
down  the  private  staircase — there's  nobody  in  the  butler's 
pantry — go  out  on  the  piazza,  and  so  around  to  the  front 
door.  Quick!  She's  coming  back !" 

I  should  have  done  anything  Kitty  told  me  to  do  at  that 
moment.  It  was  lucky  for  me  she  was  the  clear-headed, 
ingenious  girl  she  was.  I  ran  downstairs,  and  hurried 


BTJTLEDftE.  438 

round  the  piazza.  At  the  hall  door  I  paused  a  moment, 
and  leaned  against  one  of  the  pillars,  to  recover  myself  be 
fore  I  entered.  Some  one  hurrying  out  of  the  house  brushed 
against  me.  An  exclamation  of  surprise  and  relief  escaped 
his  lips,  and  looking  up,  I  saw  Mr.  Rutledge. 

"  Where  have  you  been  ?"  he  asked,  abruptly. 

The  suddenness  of  the  question,  and  my  miserable. ner 
vousness,  overcame  my  self-possession  entirely.  I  struggled 
in  vain  to  speak,  but  ended  by  putting  my  face  in  my  hands, 
and  bursting  into  a  flood  of  tears. 

"  You  are  not  well,"  Ir^e  said,  kindly,  taking  my  hand  and 
drawing  me  to  a  seat.  "  You  are  very  unhappy.  I  cannot 
bear  to  see  you  suffer  so.  Will  you  not  tell  me  what  it  is, 
and  let  me  help  you  ?" 

"  No  one  can  help  me — no  one  can  do  me  the  least 
good." 

"  You  think  so,  perhaps ;  but  you  do  not  know  how  far  1 
might.  You  do  not  know  how  much  I  would  sacrifice  to 
see  you  happy  again.  If  you  will  only  confide  to  me  the 
anxiety  that  I  see  is  killing  you,  I  will  promise  to  further 
your  wishes,  and  to  endeavor  to  relieve  your  mind,  at  the 
cost  of  anything  to  myself  except  my  honor." 

I  shook  my  head.     "  You  cannot  help  me — no  one  can.*' 

"  If  it  is  only  grief  at  parting  with  your  lover,"  he  went 
on,  quickly,  "I  cannot  do  you  any  good;  but  if  it  is  what  I 
fear  'for  you,  I  can  perhaps  advise  you — perhaps  materially 
aid  you.  Trust  in  me  for  this  ;  show  the  confidence  in  me 
that  you  have  hitherto  refused,  and  you  shall  see  how  well 
I  will  serve  you — how  unselfishly  and  unreservedly  I  will 
try  to  restore  you  to  happiness." 

Pity  can  make  the  human  face  almost  like  the  face  of  an 
angel ;  there  is  no  emotion  that  is  BO  transforming.  When 
pride,  self-will,  and  selfishness,  resign  their  sway,  and  pity, 
heaven-born  and  god-like,  dawns,  all  that  is  mean,  and 
coarse,  and  earthly,  seems  to  fade  before  it,  to  grow  dumb 
and  quiet  in  the  calm  radiance  of  its  risen  fullness.  Such 


4:34  KUTLBDGE. 

pity  beamed  on  me  now,  but  its  healing  and  tenderness 
came  too  late, 

"  As  on  the  uprooted  flower,  the  genial  rain." 

"  You  are  very  kind,"  I  murmured ;  "  but  there  is  nothing 
anybody  can  do  for  me." 

He  rose  sadly.  "  I  will  not  toi'ment  you,  then.  Will  you 
come  into  the  house  ?  If  you  desire  to  go  to  your  room,  I 
will  manage  your  excuses  for  you." 

With  almost  inaudible  thanks,  I  hurried  into  the  hall  and 
upstairs.  My  aunt  came  up  in  the  course  of  the  evening, 
but  Kitty  represented  me  as  "just  going  to  sleep,"  and  I 
was  spared  an  interview. 

"  Kitty !"  I  exclaimed,  starting  up,  long  after  she  had 
fancied  I  was  soothed  to  sleep,  "  how — how  will  it  all  end  ? 
What  is  to  become  of  him  after  we  go  ?  It  was  decided 
yesterday  that  we  leave  in  two  days'  time,  and  you  know 
it  will  not  be  safe  for  him  to  think  of  escape  till  the  excite 
ment  has  died  away  in  the  country.  Poor  Victor  !  What 
is  to  become  of  him  ?" 

"  Don't  fret,"  said  Kitty,  soothingly,  "  even  if  you  have 
to  leave  him  here,  there'll  be  no  more  danger  for  him  than 
if  you  stayed.  Mr.  Rutledge  is  going  too,  you  know,  and 
the  house  will  be  shut  up,  and  it  will  be  safer,  if  anything, 
than  now.  I'll  write  you  every  day  of  my  life,  and  tell  you 
how  things  go  on.  And,  depend  upon  it,  the  worst  of  the 
danger  is  over.  Since  this  body  has  been  found  in  the  lake, 
people  will  begin  to  content  themselves  that  there's  no  use 
in  looking  further  for  the  murderer — that  he  did  it  and  then 
drowned  himself  in  despair.  Michael  hasn't  brought  up 
the  news  of  the  inquest  yet — he's  waiting  in  the  village  to 
hear  it ;  but  I've  no  manner  of  doubt  what  it'll  be.  Every 
body  knows  he  and  the  doctor  had  dealings  together,  and 
that,  with  the  character  he  bears,  will  tell  against  him." 

"  You  don't  suppose  he  had  any  papers  about  him  that 
might  do  Victor  harm  ?" 


K  U  T  L  E  D  G  E.  435 

"  If  he  had  hud,  they  wouldn't  be  of  any  use  now ;  they've 
beeii  in  the  water  too  long  to  serve  any  purpose,  good  or 
bad.  No,  Black  John,  as  they  call  him,  will  have  to  bear 
the  credit  of  the  crime  he  was  hunting  poor  Mr.  Victor  to 
death  for.  There  ain't  many  that  he  didn't  deserve  to  take 
the  credit  of.  Everybody  knows  that  he  was  nothing  slow 
at  all  manner  of  wickedness,  and  it  seems  the  likeliest  thing 
in  the  world  that  he  should  do  the  devil's  work ;  and,  mark 
my  words,  before  a  week  is  over,  there  won't  be  man, 
woman  or  child  in  the  country  round,  that  won't  curse 
Black  John  as  Dr.  Hugh's  murderer.  It  won't  do  him 
much  harm  now,  poor  wretch ;  a  few  curses  more  or  less 
won't  make  much  difference  to  him  where  he  is  now,  I  sup 
pose." 

"  Had  he  a  wife  ?" 

"  A  drunken,  half-crazy  thing.  She  spends  her  time  be 
tween  the  poor-house  and  the  grog-shop.  She'll  never  mind 
about  her  husband,  beyond  howling  for  an  hour  or  two 
when  she  first  hears  it,  if  she  happens  to  be  sober.  Now, 
Miss,  don't  think  any  more  about  it,  but  try  to  go  to  sleep. 
You'll  be  quite  worn  out." 

And  Kitty  threw  herself  upon  her  mattress  by  my  bed, 
where  she  now  slept,  and,  faithfullest  and  tenderest  of  «U 
tendants,  never  left  me,  lay  or  night. 


CHAPTER  XXXTV. 

"  Nor  peace  nor  ease,  the  heart  can  know, 

That,  like  the  needle  true, 
Turns  at  the  touch  of  joy  or  woe, 
But,  turning,  trembles  too." 

GREVILIA 

M  JLHIKGS  seem  to  be  taking  a  new  turn,"  said  the  cap 
tain,  meditatively,  over  his  coffee  the  next  morning.  "  1 
own  I  thought  we  were  at  the  bottom  of  the  mystery,  yes 
terday,  but  this  woman's  testimony  seems  to  set  us  all  adrift 
again,  and  we're  no  nearer  a  conclusion  than  we  were  a 
week  ago." 

"  What  woman's  ?"  asked  Ellerton,  who  had  just  come  in. 

4<  The  man's  wife,"  said  the  captain. 

"  What  man's  ?"  demanded  Ella,  who  generally  arrived 
at  a  subject  about  ten  minutes  after  it  had  been  introduced. 

"  Why  the  man  who  was  supposed  to  have  murdered  the 
doctor,  Miss  Ella,  and  whose  body  was  found  in  the  lake, 
We  were  ah1  mightily  relieved  yesterday,  and  thought  the 
murderer  had  found  his  reward,  and  were  only  sorry  that 
he'd  cheated  the  hangman.  But  in  the  meantime  his  wife 
turns  up,  and  brings  a  lot  of  things  to  light ;  swears  that 
on  the  night  of  the  murder  he  was  at  Brandon,  on  an  errand 
for  the  doctor,  and  brings  the  landlord  and  barkeeper  of  the 
*  Brandon  Shades'  to  testify  to  hia  remaining  there  till  after 
eleven  o'clock.  She  also  states  that  the  doctor  and  her  hus 
band  were  on  good  terms,  and  that  the  doctor  often  em, 
ployed  him  in  a  confidential  way ;  that  there  was  a  person 
who,  she  knew,  bore  malice  against  the  doctor ;  she  had 
overheard  a  conversation  between  her  husband  and  Dr. 
Hugh,  in  which" 

486 


KUTLEDGE. 

*  But  her  testimony  goes  for  nothing,"  I  interrupted, 
eagerly.  "  She  is  well  known  to  be  hah0  crazy,  and  hardly 
ever  sober.  Her  testimony  can't  be  worth  a  straw — no 
body  would  listen  to  her  for  a  moment." 

"I  don't  know  about  that;  her  story  hangs  together, 
she's  sober  enough  now,  and  will  be  kept  so  till  they  have 
done  with  her.  She  says  that  the  doctor  came  to  their 
shanty  late  the  night  before  the  murder,  and  called  John 
out;  she  crept  to  the  keyhole  and  listened.  She  lost  a 
good  deal  of  what  they  said  for  a  little  while,  they  talked 
so  low ;  then  John  raised  his  voice,  and  said  with  an  oath, 
he'd  take  down  the  villain's  pride  for  him  a  bit ;  he  won 
dered  the  doctor  had  stood  his  cursed  ugliness  so  long ;  for 
his  part,  he'd  put  a  bullet  through  him  to-morrow,  with 
pleasure.  The  doctor  hushed  him,  and  said,  'Not  so  fast, 
John,  not  so  fast,  wait  awhile ;  we  must  get  a  little  more 
out  of  him  before  we  send  him  to  his  long  account.  We'll 
settle  up  old  scores  with  pleasure,  after  we've  no  further 
use  for  him.  Attend  to  this  little  errand  for  me  to-morrow, 
and  don't  let  him  slip,  and  that'll  be  the  first1  step  toward 
a  reckoning.'  " 

"  Well,  but  I  cannot  see,"  said  Mr.  Rutledge,  "  what  it 
all  amounts  to,  even  if  the  woman's  testimony  is  received, 
which  is  more  than  doubtful.  She  didn't  hear  any  names. 
Nobody  has  any  doubt  but  that  the  doctor  had  plenty  of 
enemies,  and  that  her  man  John  was  a  scoundrel,  and  I 
cannot  see  what  else  her  evidence  goes  to  prove." 

"It  goes  to  prove  that  there  was  somebody  with  whom 
the  doctor  was  not  on  good  terms,  who  has  not  appeared  on 
the  stage  as  yet,  and  of  whom  we  want  to  get  hold.  It 
goes  to  prove,  my  dear  sir,  that  the  man  John  was  sent  to 
Brandon  on  a  matter  in  some  way  connected  with  this  per 
son  ;  and,  to  my  mind,  when  we  shall  have  found  out  who 
that  person  was,  we  shall  have  found  out  who  was  the  mur- 
derer  of  Dr.  Hugh !" 

"  But,"  said  Phil,  "  what  do  the  barkeeper  and  landlord 


438  E  U  T  I.  E  D  G  E  . 

of  'The  Shades'  say?  Don't  they  know  who  he  came  to 
meet,  and  for  whom  he  waited  till  eleven  ?" 

"  John,  it  seems,  '  kept  dark,'  lounged  around  the  bar 
room,  and  spoke  little  to  any  one,  as  was  his  manner,  but 
went  often  to  the  door,  and  seemed  to  wait  for  some  one. 
The  bai'keeper  thinks,  but  is  not  sure,  that  it  was  he  who 
was  there  once  before  during  the  morning,  with  a  letter 
which  he  left,  directed  to  a  gentleman  whose  name  he  has 
forgotten,  who  never  called  for  it." 

"Ah!"  cried  Phil,  "now  we  shall  get  at  it,  I  think. 
What  became  of  the  letter  ?" 

"  The  letter,"  interrupted  Mr.  Rutledge,  "  the  letter  that 
was  left  there  that  morning  " 

I  crushed  the  newspaper  that  lay  beside  me  with  my 
nervous  hand;  I  smothered  the  cry  that  trembled  on  my 
lips,  but  my  eyes  burned  on  his  face.  He  avoided  them  and 
went  on. 

"  The  letter  which  was  left  there  by  some  one,  who,  it  is 
conjectured,  only  conjectured,  may  have  been  this  man,  was 
addressed  to  some  person  not  at  aU  known  in  Brandon,  and 
who  never  came  for  it.  It  was  opened  and  examined,  and 
proved  to  be  only  the  business  circular  of  some  importing 
house  in  New  York.  So  all  idea  of  tracing  anything  from 
that  was  given  up,  and  the  letter  thrown  aside." 

"  Strange,"  said  Phil,  thoughtfully.  "  I  should  have 
thought  something  could  have  been  made  out  of  it.  In  a 
small  place  like  Brandon,  where  everybody  knows  every 
body,  I  should  have  thought  that  the  circumstance  of  a 
strange  name  on  a  letter  left  at  a  little  tavern  would  have 
excited  some  interest." 

"  Brandon  is  a  railway  station,  you  know,  and  consc, 
quently  there  are  strangers  always  coming  and  going." 

"  Do  you  remember  the  name  on  the  letter,  sir  ?" 

"  Some  foreign  name,  I  think.  Captain  McGuffy,  do  you 
remember  it?"  said  Mr.  Rutledge,  indifferently. 

"  I  don't  think  I  heard  it,"  returned  the  captain.     "  And 


JRT7TLEDGE.  439 

I  really  have  the  curiosity  to  want  to  know  something  more 
about  that  letter,  though  all  the  legal  gentlemen,  I  know, 
have  decided  against  its  usefulness  in  the  case.  I  must  re 
member  to  ask  Judge  Talbot  to  let  me  look  at  it,"  he  con 
tinued,  taking  out  his  memorandum-book  and  making  an 
entry.  "  Phil,  don't  you  feel  like  taking  a  drive  over  to 
Brandon  with  me,  this  morning,  and  seeing  if  there's  any 
thing  new  to  be  learned  ?" 

"  Captain  McGuffy,"  I  exclaimed,  "  don't  you  want  to  do 
me  a  favor  ?  I  am  perfectly  wild  to  have  a  ride  on  horse 
back  this  morning,  and  you  know  you  promised  to  give  me 
some  lessons  in  '  cavalry  practice '  before  we  left,  and  there 
is  only  one  day  more.  What  do  you  say  to  a  canter  over 
to  Windy  Hill  this  fine  morning  ?" 

The  captain  fell  in  with  the  proposition  very  readily,  and 
Mr.  Rutledge  suggested  that  it  would  be  a  very  good 
arrangement  for  all  of  the  party  to  accompany  us,  in  the 
carriage  and  open  wagon,  and  to  make  our  farewell  call, 
also,  to  the  Emersons, 

"  To-morrow  may  not  be  fine,"  said  Mr.  Rutledge,  "  and 
perhaps  we  had  better  secure  to-day." 

The  rest  were  agreed,  and  we  hurried  off  to  dress  ;  as 
the  two  places  were  far  distant  from  each  other  and  from 
Rutledge,  it  was  necessary  to  start  as  soon  as  possible.  In  my 
dread  lest  Phil  should  decline  being  of  the  party,  and  should 
ride  over  to  Brandon  by  himself,  I  called  out  to  him  to  know 
if  he  would  not  accept  an  appointment  in  my  regiment  ? 
He  laughed,  and  accepted  ;  and  unheeding  the  flaming  bat 
tery  of  Josephine's  eyes,  I  ran  up  to  put  on  my  habit. 
There  was  another  lady's  horse  in  the  stable,  besides  the 
one  I  should  use,  but  Josephine  and  Ella,  though  dying  to 
ride,  would  neither  of  them  volunteer  to  accompany  me. 

"  You  are  too  nervoiis  to  ride,  Miss,"  said  Kitty,  as  she 
buttoned  my  gloves.  "  See  how  your  hand  shakes.  Why 
will  you  go  ?  You  are  not  fit." 

u I  must;  there  is  no  help.     Tell  bin?  why  I  go,  Kitty 


K  J  T  L  I*.  D  G  E  . 

that  I  will  be  back  as  soon  as  I  can,  and  you  must 
manage  to  let  me  see  him  in  the  course  of  the  after- 
uoon.  And  be  sure  you  make  him  understand  about  my 
going." 

Glorious  Madge !  •  I  had  never  expected  to  mount  her 
again.  I  had  never  expected  to  burden  her  with  such  a 
heavy  heart.  What  a  contrast  to  the  daring  young  rider 
of  a  few  short  months  ago.  Madge  Wildfire  was  as  eager 
and  untamed  as  then,  but  not  so  her  mistress.  Her  mis 
tress,  the  fire  quenched  in  her  eye,  the  pride  of  her  free 
step  humbled,  the  courage  of  her  spirit  broken,  trembled 
at  the  very  beauty  of  the  animal  she  rode. 

"  You  are  not  fit  for  this,"  said  Mr.  Rutledge,  in  a  low 
tone,  as  he  put  me  in  the  saddle.  "  You  had  better  give  it 
up.  It  is  not  too  late ;  let  one  of  the  others  take  your 
place." 

"  No,  thank  you.     I  shall  be  better  for  the  ride." 

"  Captain  McGufFy,  you  must  remember  your  pupil  is 
rather  inexperienced,"  he  said,  uneasily,  as  the  captain 
mounted  and  /ode  up  beside  me.  "  Madge  has  not  been 
used  for  some  time,  and  she  is  feeling  very  fine." 

"  No  danger,"  said  the  captain,  as,  followed  by  Phil,  we 
trotted  rapidly  down  the  avenue.  There  must  have  been  a 
touch  of  human  intelligence  and  sympathy  in  Madge  ;  she 
was  burning  to  be  off  on  a  mad  race  across  the  country ; 
she  was  fairly  throbbing  with  impatience ;  my  weak  grasp 
upon  her  bridle  she  could  have  thrown  off  with  one  toss  of 
her  arched  neck ;  but,  quivering  with  life  and  fire  as  she 
was,  she  restrained  her  pace  to  suit  my  fears,  and  minded 
my  slightest  touch,  with  more  than  human  gentleness.  By 
degrees,  I  came  to  realize  this,  and  reassured  and  embold 
ened,  I  sat  more  firmly  and  rode  less  timidly.  The  cool  air" 
of  the  morning  braced  and  strengthened  my  nerves ;  I 
could  hardly  have  believed  that  I  could  have  felt  so  differ 
«ntly  in  so  short  a  time,  and  every  foot  of  ground  we  put 
between  us  and  Rutledge,  seemed  to  distance  just  so  far 


XUTL  EDGE.  141 

my  anxiety  and  wretchedness.  My  companions  amused 
themselves,  and  thought  they  were  amusing  me,  by  remi 
niscences  of  military  adventures,  frontier  experiences,  and 
camp  life ;  which  served  to  keep  them  occupied,  and  give 
me  time  to  rest  and  recover  myself.  When  we  rode  into 
the  lodge  gate  at  Windy  Hill,  I  was  indeed  so  much  better 
for  my  ride,  that  even  Phil  noticed  the  change  in  my  ex 
pression. 

"  You  ought  to  have  ridden  every  day  while  we  have 
been  here.     You  must  ride  to-morrow  by  'all  means." 

We  were  the  first  of  the  party  to  arrive,  and  had  been 
seated  in  the  parlor  some  minutes,  enjoying  the  prattle  of 
the  Misses  Mason,  before  the  others  drove  up.  All  were 
made  hugely  welcome.  One  is  surest  of  appreciation, 
socially,  in  a  visit  to  a  lonely  country  place,  where  visitors 
are  at  a  premium,  and  where  there  are  pining  young  daugh 
ters,  and  unemployed  young  sons,  and  a  hospitable  head  of 
the  family,  to  swell  the  note  of  welcome.  All  these  ele 
ments  of  hospitality  we  found  at  Windy  Hill ;  never  were 
guests  more  welcome,  and  the  only  doubt  seemed  to  be, 
whether  we  should  ever  be  allowed  to  go.  Lunch  did  not 
suffice,  we  must  stay  to  dinner.  Mason  pere  said  it  should 
be  so,  and  Mason  fils  ordered  -the  carriage  away,  and  the 
horses  taken  out.  Mrs.  Churchill  pleaded  our  toilets,  but 
was  overruled.  Mr.  Rutledge  advanced  the  necessity  for 
our  visit  at  Beech  Grove  as  an  obstacle.  That  should  be 
no  objection.  After  dinner  the  young  people  should  join 
us,  and  we  could  all  go  together.  There  being  really  no 
reason  why  we  should  not  accept  this  hospitality,  it  was  at 
last  decided  we  should  remain.  The  morning  slipped  away 
very  fast ;  there  was  a  great  deal  to  be  seen  about  the 
place  ;  fine  views  and  pretty  walks  on  every  hand,  outside, 
and  a  library  and  picture-gallery  full  of  interest  within. 
New  merchandisable  interest,  that  is.  The  Masons  had 
just  returned  from  Europe,  and  had  brought  with  them 
whatever  had  been  procurable  for  money,  unbacked  bj 


442  ItUTLEDGE. 

taste  or  judgment.  The  result  was,  a  good  many  pictures 
in  rather  questionable  taste,  but  framed  and  hung  unexcep 
tionably ;  a  great  deal  of  so-so  statuary,  engravings  bought 
by  the  portfolio,  and  "  gems  of  art,"  bearing  about  the 
same  relation  to  high  art,  that  the  contents  of  some  jewel 
ler's  show-case,  in  Chatham  street,  bears  to  che  Koh-i-noor. 
My  particular  friend,  the  younger  Mr.  Mason,  attended  me 
through  the  library  and  picture-gallery ;  and  though  the 
names  of  the  pictures  and  the  prices  of  the  books  seemed 
to  be  the  items  that  he  was  most  familiar  with,  I  could  not 
but  admire  the  grasp  of  mind  that  could  master  and 
retain  such  dry  statistics.  By  the  time  that  dinner  was 
announced,  I  felt  that  we  had  earned  it,  so  much  listening, 
looking,  admiring  had  we  done. 

Dinner  at  the  Masons'  was  never  a  brief  meal ;  the  master 
of  the  house  had  known  too  much  of  short  commons  in  his 
boyhood,  and  eighteen-penny  lunches  at  second-rate  eating- 
houses  during  his  clerkship,  not  to  place  a  full  value  upon 
the  luxuries  of  the  table ;  and  on  the  present  occasion 
nothing  was  wanting  to  make  it  an  elaborate  and  elegant 
repast,  honorable  to  guests  and  entertainers.  It  was  five 
o'clock  before  we  left  the  table,  and  fully  six  before  we  were 
in  the  saddle.  The  ride  to  Beech  Grove  occupied  another 
hour ;  a  mere  call,  of  course,  was  impossible.  We  were 
quite  as  cordially,  though  rather  less  enthusiastically,  wel 
comed  by  Mr.  Emerson  and  his  black-eyed  daughter ;  the 
horses  were  again  sent  away,  and  we  were  told  to  consider 
ourselves  prisoners  for  the  evening.  Not  a  very  dreary  and 
insupportable  prison,  certainly,  we  were  condemned  to. 
Beech  Grove  was  a  lovely  spot ;  the  house,  about  one-third 
the  size  of  the  one  we  had  just  left,  was  a  gem  in  point  of 
architectural  beauty  and  tasteful  decoration.  Cultivation 
and  refinement  spoke  at  every  turn — choice  pictures,  rare 
books,  exquisite  bronzes,  were  the  natural  and  unobtru 
sive  furniture  of  the  rooms ;  one  was  not  called  upon  to 
admire  by  anything  more  demonstrative  than  quiet  enjoy 


EUTLEDGE.  443 

f 

ment  and  ease.  It  was  the  atmosphere  of  the  place  that 
one  was  to  revel  in ;  and  no  obligation  existed  to  analyze 
its  component  parts. 

The  realization  of  the  speedy  termination  of  our  pleasant 
intercourse,  at  least  for  the  present,  gave  a  very  natural 
/•harm  to  the  evening,  and  made  it  a  very  prolonged  and 
happy  one.  At  least,  to  those  of  us  who  had  not  forgotten 
how  to  be  happy  ;  for  me,  I  could  hardly  remember  when  I 
had  not  been  wretched,  so  agonizingly  long  and  miserable 
had  the  past  fortnight  been,  and  so  strongly  had  it  marked 
itself  on  my  memory.  I  looked  with  a  kind  of  wonder  at 
the  light-heartedness  of  my  companions.  Was  it  possible  I 
had  ever  found  anything  to  laugh  at  in  such  things  as  called 
forth  their  merriment,  or  anything  to  stir  my  anger  in  their 
puerile  slights  and  taunts  ?  Grace  was  vexed  by  my  indif 
ference,  and  tried,  with  no  contemptible  ingenuity,  to  irri 
tate  me  ;  and  Josephine  and  Ella  too,  resented  my  deter 
mined  appropriation  of  their  beaux.  I  was  too  listless 
though,  at  last  they  found,  to  make  it  pay  to  tease  me  ;  so, 
by  degrees,  they  dropped  oft'  and  left  me.  Even  Mr.  Ma 
son,  it  was  evident,  was  beginning  to  think  that  he  had 
overrated  my  spirit,  and  the  captain,  that  my  overtures  of 
the  morning  did  not  mean  quite  so  much,  after  all,  as  he  had 
flattered  himself.  Miss  Emerson,  who  was  a  nice,  bright 
girl,  not  in  the  least  afraid  of  herself  or  of  any  one  else, 
and  with  whom  one  felt  intimate  after  half  an  hour's  ac 
quaintance,  ran  up  to  me  and  asked  me  sotto  voce,  if  it 
didn't  bore  me  to  death  to  have  that  man  talk  to  rne  ;  she 
was  sure  I  looked  tired,  and  she  meant  to  relieve  me ;  so, 
with  some  clever  excuse,  in  a  few  minutes  she  hurried  me 
off'  to  the  library,  made  me  He  on  the  sofa  while  she  sat  be 
side  me,  and  chatted  with  me  in  her  peculiarly  piquant  and 
amusing  manner.  It  was  very  nice  and  comfortable  to  be 
treated  so  ;  but  I  could  not  help  wondering  what  her  other 
guests  would  think  of  her  for  absenting  herself  from  them 
so  much.  It  was  a  matter  of  very  little  moment  to  Miss 


KTJTLEDGE. 

Janet,  howev  er,  what  any  one  but  "  papa  "  thought  of  her, 
and  she  was  sure  of  a  tender  judgment  from  him  always  ; 
but  at  last  it  seemed  to  strike  her  that  even  he  might  con 
sider  it  rather  negligent  to  leave  the  parlor  so  long,  so 
springing  up,  she  said  : 

"  I  must  go  back  to  those  people  ;  but  remember,  you  are 
not  to  stir ;  or,  yes,  you  may  sit  here  by  the  table,  and  look 
over 'these  engravings.  You  are  not  fit  to  be  dragged  about 
making  visits ;  they're  a  set  of  heathens  to  make  you  go.  I 
know  you  hate  it.  What  is  the  matter,  really,  now  ?"  she 
said,  abruptly,  stooping  over  me,  and  fixing  her  black  eyes 
on  my  face.  "  You  don't  look  like  the  same  girl  latterly. 
If  I  hadn't  known  you  before,  I  should  have  thought  you 
were  tiresome  and  mopish  and  had  no  spirit.  I  like  you 
better  than  your  French  cousins,  and  I  wish  you'd  come 
and  stay  with  me.  Won't  you?  I'll  make  papa  coax  Mrs. 
Churchill  to  let  you  stay  after  they  go." 

I  shook  my  head  and  sighed. 

"  You  look  as  if  it  were  no  use  to  talk  about  it ;  but  I 
don't  give  it  up,  though  I  must  go  to  the  parlor.  I  shall 
come  back  and  look  after  you  every  little  while,  and  I'm 
going  to  send  some  one  to  entertain  you  while  I'm 
gone." 

"  Oh  !  I'd  rather  not — I'd  rather  be  quiet " 

Miss  Janet  shook  her  head  with  a  very  pretty  determined 
shake. 

"  You  shall  have  somebody  that  won't  bore  you — some 
body  that  I  like  and  that  you  like ;  the  only  man  here,  in 
point  of  fact,  worth  talking  to,  except  papa,"  and  she 
ran  off. 

I  leaned  back  in  my  chair  and  .tried  to  be  patient ;  since 
we  left  Windy  Hill  every  minute  had  grown  longer  than  the 
last.  I  had  been  in  a  fever  of  anxiety  about  the  effect  our 
absence  might  produce  on  Victor.  I  knew  his  morbid  bit 
terness  would  construe  it  into  a  willful  thing  on  my  part, 
and  that  the  neglect  would  seem  unpardonable  and  sruel, 


ftDTLEDGE.  445 

The  evening  had  seemed  interminable,  and  no  one  dreamed 
of  going  yet. 

In  a  few  moments  I  heard  Miss  Emerson's  voice  in  the 
hall,  and  Mr.  Rutledge's  in  reply.  "  Of  course,  since  you 
desire  it,  I  will  do  my  best  to  be  entertaining  ;  but  you  know 
you  have  not  told  me  who  it  is  I  am  to  devote  myself  to." 

"  O,  you  shall  see  for  yourself;  go  in  the  library,  she  is 
there,  and  be  sure  you  amuse  and  please  her,  for  she's  my 
particular  favorite,"  and  with  a  laugh  and  a  nod,  she  left  him 
in  the  door. 

Mr.  Rutledge  started  a  Little,  and  did  not  look  very  much 
pleased  when  he  recognized  me  ;  but  there  was  no  help,  so 
he  sat  down  beside  me  at  the  table. 

"  Miss  Emerson  told  me  she  should  send  some  one  to  en 
tertain  me.  I  didn't  know  she  meant  to  send  you." 

"  Is  there  any  one  you  would  prefer  ?  Mr.  Arbuthnot, 
the  captain,  or  your  heavy  adorer,  Mr.  Theodore  Mason  ? 
You  need  not  hesitate  to  tell  me.  I  will  resign  in  favor  of 
any  one  you  name." 

I  was  too  miserable  to  be  angry  at  his  tone ;  with  a  lan 
guid  movement  of  my  hand,  I  answered  : 

"  If  you  are  willing  to  stay,  sir,  there  is  no  one  I  should 
like  so  well." 

"  It  is  not  often  you  allow  yourself  in  anything  so  gracious 
as  that.  I  will  stay  with  pleasure.  But  Miss  Emerson  says 
I  must  entertain  you — I  must  be  agreeable.  Now,  though 
I  dare  not,  for  my  life,  disobey  anything  so  blackeyed  and 
imperious,  still  I  haven't  the  first  idea  how  to  proceed,  and 
unless  you  give  me  a  hint,  I  am  certain  I  shall  fail.  What 
shall  I  talk  about  ?  "What  do  young  ladies  like,  literature 
or  gossip — people  or  things  ?" 

"My  tastes  haven't  changed,  Mr.  Rutledge;  you  used 
to  find  no  difficulty  in  talking  to  me — at  least,  I  never  sup 
posed  it  cost  you  much  effort,  and  you  always  succeeded  in 
entertaining  me ;  so  if  that  is  honestly  your  object  to  night, 
I  do  not  think  you  need  be  at  a  loss.'' 


446  RUTLEDGE. 

"What  ,did  I  use  to  talk  about,  when  I  amused  you,  il 
ever  I  was  so  happy?  If  you  would  give  me  a  sugges 
tion  " 

He  turned  his  eyes  full  on  me,  as  I  answered: 

"  When  you  first  used  to  talk  to  me,  you  seemed  to  think 
me  a  very  foolish,  frightened  child,  and  were  very  kind  and 
gentle.  Then,  after  you  had  found  out  I  was  old  enough  to 
understand  you,  and  clever  enough  to  appreciate  you,  you 
used  to  talk  to  me  about  your  travels,  and  the  people  you 
had  met,  the  countries  you  had  seen.  Sometimes  you  would 
talk  to  me  about  books,  and  make  me  tell  you  what  ones 
I  liked,  and  after  you  were  convinced,  I  was  prejudiced  and 
enthusiastic  enough  to  make  it  worth  your  while  to  oppose 
me,  you  would  amuse  yourself  by  contradicting  and  thwart 
ing  me.  Then  you  would  suddenly  change  arid  be  kind — 
oh!  so  kind ! — and  treat  me  'as  if  I  were  fit  to  be  your  friend 
and  your  companion ;  you  would  tell  me  about  the  world 
that  I  had  only  dreamed  of  then ;  you  warned  me  of  its 
danger,  its  heartlessness  and  treachery ;  you  counselled  me, 
and  talked  as  if  you  really  cared  what  became  of  me;  you 
told  me  the  world  was  full  of  coldness  and  unkindness,  but 
oh!  you  did  not  tell  me  half  you  might  have  told  me  about 
that.  Then,  sometimes — not  often — you  would  tell  me 
some  slight  thing  about  yourself;  you  looked  sterner  and 
colder  than  ever  when  you  did ;  your  eye  would  flash,  and 
your  lip  would  curl — some  unseen  chain  would  gall  you 
when  you  thought  of  the  Past ;  something  that  came  with 
its  memory  humbled  you,  you  hated  it,  you  hated  your 
self;  but  I  liked  you — I  liked  you  better  then  than 
when  you  were  talking  to  please  me,  or  to  instruct  me,  or 
to  please  or  instruct  other  people;  you  were  involuntary 
then — you  were  yourself — and  though  I  liked  you  hi  those 
days  whatever  you  did,  I  liked  you  best  of  all  when  you 
talked  of  yourself." 

"  Then  I  will  talk  of  myself  now ;  I  have  promised  to  en 
tertain  you,  and  you  have  told  me  how  to  do  it.  They  are 


BUTLEDGE.  447 

dancing  in  the  parlor  now,  and  the  music  and  the  laughing 
will  screen  us  from  them ;  you  can  listen  at  your  ease,  and 
be  entertained  without  fear  of  interruption.  I  believe  you 
when  you  say  you  like  to  hear  me  talk  of  myself,  because  it 
pleases  me  to  believe  it,  and  men,  you  know,  will  go  great 
lengths  to  believe  anything  that  suits  their  vanity. 

"  But  first,  you  will  not  mind  anything  that  I  may  say — 
you  will  not  shrink  and  blush  ?  Remember,  it  is  a  man's 
life,  and  not  a  woman's,  that  you  are  to  hear  about — a  dark 
life,  and  not  a  prosperous  one — and  to  make  it  vivid  to  you, 
I  must  show  you  the  blackness  of  the  shadow  and  the  depth 
of  the  gloom ;  you  must  know  what  the  trial  has  been  be 
fore  you  can  know  Avhat  grim  strength  was  needed  to 
endure  it — what  coldness  and  sternness,  as  you  call  them, 
to  keep  down  the  pain  within.  You  are  a  child  no  longer ; 
you  know  something  of  what  suffering  is,  so  I  can  tell  you 
with  some  hope  of  pity,  if  you  will  listen  and  not  be  dainty 
— if  you  will  forget  all  about  yourself,  and  think  only  of 
what  you  hear.  Can  you  be  such  a  listener  ?  Such  only 
are  worthy  of  confidence.  I  never  found  one  before,  but  I 
will  try  you.  Do  you  hear  the  rumbling  of  that  distant 
thunder  ?  How  strangely  it  mixes  with  the  music  across 
the  hall !  There  is  a  storm  coming  up ;  we  cannot  go  home 
for  two  hours  yet,  and  they  will  not  tire  of  dancing  even 
then  " — 

There  was  a  keen,  piercing  flash  of  lightning. 

"  Docs  it  make  you  nervous  ?  You  used  to  be  afraid  in 
thunder-storms." 

"  I  don't  mind  the  lightning  any  more  than  the  flare  of 
the  candle  to-night,  Mr.  Rutledge.  Why  don't  you  go  on 
with  what  you  promised  to  teU  me  ?" 

"  I  will  not  begin  by  telling  you  about  my  childhood  ;  a 
happy  childhood  is  a  thing  to  be  enjoyed  once  in  reality, 
and  forever  in  memory,  but  not  to  be  talked  about ;  no  one 
but  the  man  himself  can  see  the  least  pathos  or  delicious- 
ness  in  the  details  and  recollections  of  his  nursery  days ;  to 


448  BUTLBDGE.. 

others  they  are  weariness  and  folly ;  to  him  they  are  tha 
sweetest  pages  in  his  memory ;  but  he  must  not  hope  to 
find  there  is  any  other  than  himself  who  can  see  any  interest 
in  them.  Perhaps  his  mother,  if  God  spares  her  to  him — 
perhaps  the  woman  whom  he  has  taught  to  love  him,  and 
to  whom  he  is  all  the  world — perhaps  his  young  children, 
before  they  have  learned  their  perfect  lesson  of  egotism  and 
selfishness — may  listen  as  if  the  story  were  their  own  ;  but 
I  have  found  no  one  to  whom  I  could  be  egotistical  and  not 
be  wearisome ;  I  have  found  that  most  people  like  to  hear 
about  themselves,  and  I  have  not  thwarted  them. 

"  But  you  shall  hear  of  what  I  have  told  no  one  else." 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

"  Of  all  sad  words  of  tongue  orpeii, 

The  saddest  are  these :  '  It  might  have  been !'  " 

WHITTISB. 

AND  I  did  hear  it ;  I  heard  during  the  slow  gathering 
and  heavy  bursting  of  that  summer  storm,  the  story  about 
which  my  imagination  had  been  so  busy,  and  of  which  I  had 
so  longed  to  be  assured ;  I  heard  from  Mr.  Rutledge's  own 
lips,  of  his  happy  childhood,  his  hopeful  boyhood.  He  de 
scribed  himself  as  he  was  then,  as  if  he  were  describing 
some  one  else,  some  one  who  had  died  and  left  the  light  of 
day ;  for  it  was  nothing  else  but  death  that  passed  upon 
him,  a  death  to  hope  and  faith,  a  death  to  tenderness  and 
trust,  a  death  to  all  but  stern  endurance  and  sufferings  thai 
make  life  worse  than  death.  If  he  had  not  been  just  so  en 
thusiastic  and  full  of  hope,  he  could  not  have  been  so  dashed 
down  to  despair ;  but  because  he  had  never  dreamed  that 
there  could  be  anything  but  truth  and  purity  and  honor  in 
those  he  loved,  just  so  cruel  and  fatal  was  the  awakening 
from  the  dream.  He  told  me  of  his  brother,  the  handsome 
Richard  ;  with  a  soul  too  refined  and  delicate  for  the  rough 
world  he  had  to  do  with,  a  temperament  that  recoiled  with 
pain  from  all  that  was  coarse  or  common,  a  pride  that  was 
so  intuitive  that  it  could  hardly  be  overcome,  so  uncon 
scious  that  it  could  hardly  be  called  a  sin,  so  fostered  that 
he,  at  least,  was  not  to  blame  for  it.  To  him  it  was  not 
matter  of  exultation  that  he  was  rich  and  well-born  and 
high-bred ;  it  was  only  his  native  air,  his  place  in  life,  his  vi 
tal  breath,  without  which  he  must  have  died.  Nevei  over 
bearing  and  imperious,  his  reserve  saved  him  from  fami 
liarity,  his  gentleness  from  aversion.  Ah !  Rutledge  had 

448 


4:50  RUTLEDGE. 

then  a  worth)  heir,  noble,  handsome,  high-toned  enough  to 
fill  even  his  proud  father's  ambition. 

And  then  he  told  me,  and  it  cost  him  a  keen  pang  to 
speak  her  name,  of  Alice,  his  beautiful  sister ;  of  the  ado 
ration  with  which  he  had  looked  up  to  her,  the  pride  which 
every  one  of  the  narrow  home  circle  felt  in  her  loveliness 
and  grace.  He  had  believed  she  was  almost  an  angel ;  he 
had  never  looked  above  her  for  purity  and  truth,  and  in  one 
cruel  moment  he  had  to  learn  that  she  was  false  and  sinful, 
that  she  had  fallen  below  the  lowest,  that  "  she  had  mixed 
her  ancient  blood  with  shame,"  that  the  darling  and  pride  of 
every  heart  was  now  the  disgrace  and  anguish  of  every  heart. 

The  story  that  he  told  me  did  not  sound  at  all  like  this  ; 
I  could  no  more  tell  it  as  he  told  it,  than  I  could  paint  one 
of  Church's  pictures.  I  could,  perhaps,  describe,  so  as  to 
make  intelligible,  the  picture  or  the  story,  but  it  would  be 
as  impossible  for  me  to  render  faithfully,  in  every  delicate 
tone  and  touch,  in  the  masterly  strength  and  vivid  power, 
the  one  as  the  other. 

I  listened  with  every  pulse ;  my  heart  stopped,  spell 
bound,  before  that  story ;  not  even  my  own  life  could  have 
had  more  interest  to  me  than  his ;  and  vaguely — but  oh ! 
how  bitterly — it  began  to  dawn  upon  me,  that  once  I  might 
have  had  the  power  to  have  made  the  past  forgotten  in  the 
present,  to  have  won  him  to  believe  in  love  and  truth  once 
more  ;  that  in  my  fatal  choice  I  had  not  doomed  myself 
alone,  that  three  souls,  instead  of  my  own  sinning  me,  were 
writhing  now  under  the  curse  of  my  folly  and  deceit.  Alice 
Rutledge's  name  had  perished  forever  from  the  records  of 
the  good  and  pure ;  where  would  mine  be,  when  the  secret^ 
of  all  hearts  should  be  revealed  ?  Not  among  the  good,  with 
a  lie  on  my  lips,  a  life-long  hypocrisy  to  be  carried  in  my 
heart ;  not  among  the  pure,  cherishing  yet  this  uncouquered 
passion,  while  in  the  sight  of  Heaven  I  was  breaking  a  vow 
only  less  sacred  than  the  one  I  must  make  before  the  altar. 
But  it  is  her  story  and  not  mine  I  am  to  tell. 


B  UTLEDGE.  -451 

If  human  love  and  care  could  suffice  to  keep  any  soul,  un 
der  the  pressure  of  a  strong  temptation,  Alice  Rutledge 
might  have  been  safe  ;  yet  environed  and  hemmed  in  with 
affection,  she  fell ;  honor,  pride,  filial  love,  were  powerless 
to  keep  her  back.  The  only  principle  that  can  save  man  or 
woman  in  the  hour  when  the  powers  of  darkness  have  leave 
to  try  them,  she  lacked,  and  lacking  that,  fell  hopelessly 
from  the  earthly  paradise  which  alone  she  had  lived  for  or 
regarded.  The  fair,  frail  daughter  of  a  godless  house,  the 
child  whose  glance  had  never  been  directed  to  anything 
higher  than  virtue  and  honor,  to  whom  no  principle  more 
binding  than  that  of  morality  had  been  taught,  whose  frailty 
had  never  been  strengthened  by  any  aid  more  powerful  and 
enduring  than  the  yearning  fondness  of  the  hearts  that 
doted  on  her ;  what  wonder  that  when  the  powers  of  hell 
assaulted  her,  no  strength  could  stand  against  them  that  was 
not  divine,  no  work  stand  in  that  day,  that  was  of  wood, 
or  hay,  or  stubble,  no  work  that  had  not  Heaven's  own  seal 
to  resist  the  devouring  flame ! 

All  that  the  wit  and  knowledge  and  virtue  of  man  could 
teach,  Alice  Rutledge  had  been  taught;  but  the  only  lesson 
that  could  have  done  her  any  good  in  that  day,  she  had 
never  learned.  The  lesson  that  she  should  have  lisped  at 
her  mother's  knee,  that  should  have  been  implanted  before 
any  earthly  desire  had  taken  root  in  her  flexile  soul,  had 
never  been  given  to  her.  The  "  sign  to  angels  known,"  had 
not  marked  her  baby-forehead,  holy  hands  had  not  over 
shadowed  her  before  the  strife  began,  all  her  goodness  and 
strength  were  of  the  earth,  earthy,  and  the  prince  of  this 
world  won  an  easy  victory  over  them.  When  temptation 
came,  it  found  her  careless,  secure.  How  was  it  a  possible 
thing  for  her  to  fall  ?  Why  need  she  renounce  what  was 
but  a  pleasant  dream,  as  innocent  as  it  was  secret.  She  was 
promised  to  one  whom  she  had  meant  to  love ;  she  had, 
perhaps,  loved  him  at  first,  but  with  a  shade  too  much  .-)j 


452  S  U  T  L  E  D  G  E  . 

awe  to  make  it  perfect  love,  and  the  weakness  and  timidity 
of  her  nature  made  her  shrink  involuntarily  from  what  was 
higher  and  stronger,  and  cling  to  what  was  lower,  and  nearer 
to  her  own  level.  And  so  she  yielded,  little  by  little,  to  the 
fascinations  of  an  intercourse  that,  had  she  listened  to  it 
even  her  own  weak  heart  would  have  told  her  was  a  sin 
She  was  bound  by  betrothal,  her  tempter  was  bound  by 
marriage  ;  if  the  glamour  of  destruction  had  not  been  over 
her  already,  she  could  have  seen  the  madness  of  such  an  in 
timacy,  the  sure  perdition  that  such  a  violation  of  right, 
even  in  thought,  must  lead  to.  But  it  was  the  very  impos 
sibility  and  security  that  ensnared  her,  that  blinded  those 
around  her.  Richard's  dearest  friend,  the  most  desired  and 
welcome  guest  at  her  father's  house,  the  most  accomplished 
and  refined  gentleman  she  knew,  how  could  she.  see  in  him 
the  traitor  that  he  was  ?  She,  almost  a  child  in  years  and 
inexperience,  and  he,  a  man  of  the  world,  with  the  world's 
worst  principles,  and  withal,  so  wily,  so  eloquent,  so  impas 
sioned,  was  it  strange  that  before  she  dreamed  of  danger, 
she  was  snared  beyond  redemption.  The  destruction  of 
her  principles  had  been  so  gradual,  the  instilling  of  his  so 
artful,  that  the  work  was  nearly  done  before  the  lost  girl 
saw  her  peril.  Then,  no  one  can  tell  the  struggles  of  her 
tempted  soul ;  duty  and  reason  against  sinful  love  and  guilty 
passion  ;  but  who  can  question  for  a  moment  which  way  the 
balance  turned  ?  There  was  none  of  whom  she  could  ask 
counsel.  She  had  deceived  and  outraged  all  she  loved,  so 
shamefully,  by  the  very  thought  of  what  now  tempted  her, 
that  it  was  worse  than  death  to  betray  in  the  least  her  mi- 
eery.  The  one  to  whom  at  last  she  turned,  was  the  one  least 
fitted  to  direct  her  ;  her  companion,  governess  and  friend 
was  only  less  worldly  and  thoughtless  than  her  charge;  shu 
loved  her  with  all  her  heart,  would  have  sacrificed  anything 
to  serve  her ;  she  never  dreamed  of  the  danger  she  was  in 
till  too  late  ;  terrified,  she  strove  to  bring  her  back  to  rear 


RFTXEDGE.  453 

ton,  but  in  vain  Alice's  was  the  stronger  will,  and  she 
weakly  yielded  t«  it,  and  became  the  reluctant  too  in  the 
bands  of  the  seducer. 

In  one  awful  mojnent  it  burst  upon  the  proud  old  man  that 
his  name  was  branded  with  disgrace,  his  daughter  fled,  his 
K">ve  outraged,  his  honor  stabbed  a  deadly  blow ;  all  that  he 
had  lived  for  lost ;  all  that  he  had  hoped  for  blighted. 

In  that  household  there  was  such  amazement  and  wrath 
and  desolation  as  are  horrible  but  to  imagine.  Love  out 
raged  most  cruelly,  friendship  betrayed  most  vilely,  all  that 
was  pure  turned  into  sin,  all  that  was  true  turned  false.  In 
one  short  hour,  the  pride  of  that  ungodly  home  was  humbled 
to  the  dust,  its  fair  name  stained  with  shame,  its  very  life's 
blood  oozing  from  that  cruel  wound.  "Therefore  revenge 
became  it  well  ?"  Therefore  the  agony  that  nothing  else 
could  allay,  should  seek  to  dull  itself  in  vengeance,  should 
hunt  to  the  very  death  the  shameless  traitor  ?  Should  hurl 
blighting  curses  on  the  head  of  her  who  had  brought  this 
rum  on  her  home  ? 

But  God  stayed  the  impotent  wrath  of  man.  He  took 
the  vengeance  that  alone  is  His,  in  His  own  hands;  the 
curses  that  the  outraged  father  called  down  on  his  erring 
child,  clustered,  a  black  and  ghastly  troop,  around  his  own 
dying  bed,  and  shut  off  the  last  ray  of  mercy.  Before  a 
hand  could  be  raised  to  deal  vengeance,  death  struck  down 
the  father,  and  but  few  days  and  nights  of  anguish  and 
solicitude  had  passed  before  his  heir  lay  dead  beside  him } 
and  the  life  of  the  boy  who  alone  of  all  survived,  lay  tremb 
ling  in  the  balance.  For  a  long  while  it  seemed  uncertain 
whether  God  had  not  forgotten  the  race  that  had  so  long 
forgotten  Him  ;  whether  He  had  not  turned  away  His  face, 
and  they  should  all  die  and  turn  again  to  their  dust ;  whe 
ther  the  memory  of  them  should  not  be  rooted  off  of  the 
earth,  and  their  name  perish  from  among  the  children  of 
men.  For  a  long  while,  the  boy  lay  between  life  and  death, 
b«t  when  at  last  'ife  conquered,  and  he  came  back  to  the 


454  RUTLEDGE. 

changed  and  desolated  world,  it  was  with  but  little  grata, 
tude  for  the  boon  that  had  been  granted  him,  with  almost 
a  loathing  of  the  life  that  had  been  spared  to  him. 

It  is  not  necessary  to  the  purposes  of  my  story  nor  will  it 
further  its  elucidation,  to  repeat  the  history  of  the  years  that 
followed.  It  is  sufficient  that  they  were  years  of  misan 
thropy  and  misery,  almost  of  infidelity.  Travel,  change, 
society,  neither  attracted  nor  soothed  him ;  the  life  he  led 
it  suited  no  one  to  join  him  in,  and  in  the  midst  of  the 
world  he  lived  unmolested  by  it  and  regardless  01  *t.  At 
last — what  need  to  tell  when  or  how — there  came  an  awaken 
ing  ;  he  saw  the  truth  he  had  been  so  long  shutting  his  eyes 
from,  he  saAV  God's  mercy  and  his  own  sin,  and  rousing 
from  his  apathy  he  bent  himself  to  the  work  that  lay  before 
him.  We  know  what  that  work  was,  and  how  well  he  ful 
filled  it;  from  the  misanthropic  recluse,  he  became  the 
Christian.  I  knew  all  this,  and  much  more,  that  he  did  not 
tell  me. 

"  The  story  has  been  too  long  already,  I  will  leave  you  no  w," 
said  Mr.  Rutledge  with  a  sudden  change  of  voice ;  "  I  have 
finished  my  office  of  raconteur,  you  have  listened  well ; 
almost  I  could  swear  to  having  seen  a  tear  glisten  in  your 
eye,  almost  I  could  take  my  oath  you  have  not  once  thought 
of  yourself  and  your  young  lady  sensibilities,  but  have  been 
absorbed  to  forgetfulness  of  them  all  by  the  story  of  one 
who  is  almost  a  stranger  to  you,  quite  a  stranger,  indeed, 
you  said  not  long  ago." 

"  I  did  not  mean  that  when  I  said  it,  Mr.  Rutledge,  I 
repented  of  it  a  minute  afterward.  And  I  want  to  say  to 
you  now — I  ana  sorry  from  my  heart  for  that,  and  the  many 
other  hypocrisies  you  know  I  have  been  guilty  of.  You 
don't  know  all,  you  would  despise  me  if  you  did ;  if  you 
knew  how  cowardly  I  have  been,  and  how  deceitful.  I  have 
not  meant  it ;  I  have  said  a  hundred  things  that  I  have  cried 
for  afterward,  that  I  never  would  have  said  if  I  had  not 
been  too  proud  and  too  angry  to  nave  controlled  myself, 


KTTTLEDGE.  455 

But  believe  me,  I  am  miserably  sorry  now.     Will  you  for 
give  me  ?" 

He  leaned  forward  for  a  moment  on  the  table,  and  shading 
his  eyes  with  his  hand,  fixed  them  on  my  face.  "  Forgive 
you?"  he  said  in  a  low,  clear  tone,  "  Forgive  you?  no — not 
yet — you  must  not  ask  it  yet !  When  I  have  conquered 
my  pride  and  my  passion,  you  may  ask  me  to  forgive  you, 
but  not  now — not  now !" 

"Aunt  Edith,  do  you  want  me  ?"  I  faltered,  starting  up. 
Mrs.  Churchill  moved  from  where  she  stood  beside  the 
doorway  and  entered  the  room. 

"  You  have  been  absent  a  long  while,"  she  said  in  a  soft 
voice,  "  we  have  been  wondering  where  you  were.  Mr. 
Rutledge,  how  have  you  managed  to  amuse  my  listless  and 
distraite  young  niece  so  long  ?  Have  you  been  studying  a 
map  of  France  with  her,  or  poring  over  a  chart  of  the  At 
lantic  ?  For  such  pursuits  are  all,  I  believe,  that  have  any 
interest  for  her  now." 

"  Miss  Emerson,  who  sent  me  to  entertain  the  young  lady, 
did  not  confine  me  to  those  topics,"  he  answered,  rising, 
"  and  I  have  ventured  to  go  beyond  them.  She  will  pardon 
me,  I  know,  if  I  have  not  succeeded  in  my  attempts  to  in 
terest  her."  And  Mr.  Rutledge  bowed  and  withdrew. 

"  I  have  a  few  words  to  say  to  you,"  said  Mrs.  Churchill, 
with  muffled  hatred  in  her  low  tones.  "  You  have  with 
drawn  yourself  from  my  confidence,  and  from  my  affections ; 
but  remember,  you  cannot  withdraw  yourself  from  my 
authority.  It  is  perfectly  useless  for  you  to  attempt  to  de 
ceive  me ;  from  the  first  night  you  came  under  my  roof,  I 
have  known  you  thoroughly.  You  are  a  care  and  a  vexa 
tion  to  me  daily ;  your  coquetry,  your  vanity,  your  boldness, 
I  have  hitherto  tried  to  see  unmoved,  knowing  I  was  unable 
to  influence  you ;  but  where  influence  fails,  authority  may 
step  in.  And  authority,  for  your  own  sake,  for  the  sake  oi 
the  man  you  are  engaged  to,  for  my  own  dignity,  I  shall 
use  to  prevent  the  recurrence  of  such  evenings  ae  this." 


456  KUTLEDGE. 

"  The  authority  you  hold,  Aunt  Edith,"  I  returned  with  a 
steadiness  of  tone  and  manner  she  was  quite  unprepared 
for,  "  the  authority  you  hold  over  me,  I  beg  to  remind  you, 
is  very  limited.  Don't  fancy  I  am  unacquainted  with  the 
circumstances  that  have  placed  me  in  your  care.  I  know 
every  word  of  my  mother's  will,  I  have  known  it  from  a 
child.  My  fortune  is  placed  at  my  own  disposal  after  I  am 
eighteen  ;  till  then  I  am  recommended — recommended,  Aunt 
Edith,  to  your  care,  and  naturally  devolve  on  you,  but  I 
know  that  I  am  free  :  I  know  that  after  next  December  I 
am  my  own  mistress,  and  till  that  time,  no  one  has  any 
right  but  that  of  seniority  and  affection  to  dictate  to  me. 
So  we  understand  each  other,  Aunt  Edith,  you  say  rightly, 
and  why  waste  words  ?  You  cannot  influence  me ;  you 
have  lost  the  only  power  you  ever  had  over  me.  I  came  to 
you  an  affectionate,  trusting  child ;  you  did  not  care  to  win 
my  affection,  you  took  no  pains  to  make  me  trust  in  you, 
I  threatened  unconsciously  to  interfere  in  the  plans  you  had 
for  Josephine,  and  you,  without  a  scruple,  sacrificed  me  10 
her  :  you  sacrificed  my  happiness,  my  peace,  to  the  ambition 
you  had  for  her ;  you  have  misled,  thwarted,  tortured  me 
to  make  the  path  clear  for  her ;  you  have  done  what  in  the 
sight  of  heaven  will  one  day  be  a  millstone  round  your  neck 
to  sink  you  to  perdition !  Oh  !  if  I  had  but  seen  it  all  as 
clearly  a  few  short  weeks  ago,  as  now  I  see  it,  you  would 
not  have  had  your  triumph  as  near  as  you  think  you  have 
it  now  !  But  because  I  was  a  foolish,  trusting  child,  it  was 
not  hard  to  deceive  me  ;  because  I  looked  to  you  for  direc 
tion,  you  had  the  power  to  mislead  me ;  because  I  had  strong 
feelings  it  was  all  the  easier  to  ensnare  me.  Let  mo  say 
what  I  have  to  say  now ;  this  is  our  reckoning — I  never 
want  to  have  another  explanation ;  we  have  understood  each 
other  perfectly  since  we  came  to  Rutledge,  this  plain  talk 
we  scarcely  needed,  and  let  us  end  it.  As  long  as  I  can 
endure  to  stay  with  you,  just  so  long  will  I  stay,  and. not  a 
moment  beyond  it.  As  long  as  I  must  stay,  you  must  beat 


K  U  T  L  E  D  O  E  .  457 

the  vexation  and  the  trial  of  my  presence,  hut  you  may  he 
sure,  your  release  will  not  he  very  distant.  I  am  not  bound 
to  you  nor  to  your  children  by  one  tie  of  gratitude  or  affec 
tion,  and  those  that  restrain  me  of  custom  and  convenience, 
ion't  cost  much  in  the  snapping !" 

"  All  this  tirade  has  wandered  very  far  of  the  mark.  I 
began  to  give  you  a  caution  and  a  command  which  my  duty 
required  me  to  give,  and  your  duty  required  you  to  heed, 
and  you  fly  angrily  off  on  some  unmeaning  invectives  which 
are  very  harmless  because  of  their  unmeaningness ;  if  it 
were  not  the  case,  I  should  call  you  sternly  to  account  for 
your  words,  and  make  you  retract  them." 

"  Unmeaning  or  not,  Aunt  Edith,  they  are  sown  in  your 
memory,  and  nothing  can  root  them  out.  They  will  bear 
bitter  fruit  some  day,  I  promise  you.  They  will  yield  a  rich 
harvest,  when  the  early  growths  of  ambition  and  worldliness 
have  died  down,  and  left  you  only  the  withered  husks  and 
stalks  of  remorse  and  regret  to  satisfy  your  hunger  withaL 
And  now  unless  you  want  to  publish  this,  will  you  go  into 
the  parlor  and  let  me  follow  you  ?" 

"  I  have  something  more  to  say  to  you  " 

"  There  comes  Miss  Emerson ;  if  it  is  anything  that  will 
bear  being  said  before  her,  pray  continue." 

"  Ah  !  Is  it  not  delightful !"  cried  our  pretty  hostess. 
"  Mr.  Rutledge  and  the  other  gentlemen  have  been  out, 
holding  a  post-mortem  examination  of  the  storm,  and  they 
have  decided  that  it  has  left  so  black  a  state  of  heavens  and 
so  wet  a  state  of  roads  that  it  is  impossible  to  think  of  your 
going  home  to-night,  so  you  will  have  to  stay  till  to-morrow, 
bongre  malgre.  And  I  am  so  charmed.  Ah  !  you  are  not, 
though,  I  see  plainly  enough,  you  want  to  go  back  to  that 
tiresome  Rutledge.  What  can  it  be,  Mrs.  Churchill  ? 
What  is  the  matter  with  her.  Though  to  be  sure,  the 
pale  cheeks  are  gone  now  ;  I  think  I  prescribed  well.  Mr. 
Rutledge  must  have  said  something  very  exciting  all  the 

20 


458  BDTLEDCE. 

while  he  was  m  here,  to  have  given  you  such  a  bright  coloi 
and  such  flashing  eyes." 

"  A  very  little  excitement  brings  that  result,  Miss  Emer. 
eon.  She  has  not  learned  much  self-possession  or  self-control 
'  yet ;  we  must  excuse  her." 

"  Oh  !  by  all  means.  I  am  only  glad  she  looks  brighter 
than  when  I  left  her.  But  will  you  come  into  the  parlor  ? 
Miss  Josephine  is  going  to  give  us  one  more  song  before 
we  go  to  our  rooms." 

Josephine's  song  was  gay  and  brilliant,  her  voice  was  rich 
and  full,  but  they  failed  to  drive  the  dreary  echo  of  Victor's 
last  words  out  of  my  mind,  that  deepened  and  strength 
ened  as  the  night  advanced  :  "  You  shall  be  freed !  Be  sure 
you  shall  be  freed  !"  The  lights  shone  clear  and  soft  on  the 
gay  groups  that  peopled  the  rooms  around  me  ;  but  instead 
of  them,  I  seemed  to  see,  far  nearer  and  more  distinct,  the 
deserted  chamber  at  Rutledge,  where  the  guilt  of  the  Past 
and  the  crime  of  the  Present,  kept  awful  watch  together. 


CHAPTER  XXXVL 

'*  My  care  is  like  my  shadow  in  the  sun, 
Follows  me  flying,  flies  when  I  pursue  it ; 
Stands  and  lies  by  me,  does  what  I  have  done, 
This  too  familiar  care  does  make  me  rue  it. 

QUEEN  ELIZABETH. 

LATE  breakfast,  long  lingering  at  the  table,  delay  in  or. 
dering  the  horses,  lengthened  adieux,  all  combined  to  re 
tard  our  starting  for  home  on  the  following  morning.  I  had 
stood  ready  on  the  piazza,  waiting  for  the  others  to  come 
out,  for  fifteen  minutes ;  every  new  delay  increased  unbear- 
ingly  my  nervousness.  "  Spare  that  innocent  vine,"  said 
Phil,  arresting  my  riding-whip.  "  You  have  beaten  that 
cluster  of  roses  to  fragments."  "  Will  they  never  come !" 
I  ejaculated.  "  It  is  so  tiresome  to  wait  for  all  those  adieux. 
Can't  we  start  ?" 

"  Certainly,"  said  he,  signalling  the  man  who  held  our 
horses.  "  We  can  ride  forward ;  they  will  soon  overtake  us, 
and  McGufty  can  accompany  the  carriage  as  far  as  the  cross 
road.  He  is  going  to  Brandon,  I  believe,  this  morning." 

I  stepped  back.  "  After  all,  it  would  hardly  be  polite  to 
go,  as  he  was  of  the  riding  party.  There  they  come  from  the 
greenhouse.  They  must  be  ready  now." 

At  last,  we  were  mounted,  and  our  companions  arranged 
for  the  drive,  our  last  good  byes  said ;  but  the  understand 
ing  was,  as  we  parted,  that  the  whole  party  of  Masons  and 
Emersons  should  adjourn  to  Rutledge  for  the  evening,  where 
a  grand  finale,  in  the  shape  of  a  supper  and  a  dance,  should 
wind  up  the  festivities  of  the  season.  The  pretty  Janet 
whispered,  as  I  went  down  from  the  saddle  to  exchange  a 
parting  word  with  her,  "  I  have  not  given  up  the  visit  yet 

4N 


4:60  R  TJ  T  L  E  D  Q  E  . 

papa  promises  to  take  Mrs.  Churchill  by  storm  this  evening, 
and  you  must  consent." 

As  we  rode  along,  I  gave  a  sigh  to  the  impossibility  of 
this  ;  nothing  could  give  me  pleasure  now,  but  this  seemed 
more  tike  it  than  anything  else.  To  be  quietly  with  Janet, 
and  to  learn  to  love  her,  and  to  unlearn  the  terrible  lesson 
of  the  last  few  weeks,  looked  almost  like  peace.  But  I  knew 
too  well  what  my  aunt's  answer  would  be,  as  she  was  to  be 
appealed  to,  and  without  throwing  off  the  mask  of  deference 
that  I  still  preserved  and  wished  to  preserve,  I  could  not  re 
sist  her  decision.  I  well  knew  the  programme  sketched  out 
tor  me,  for  the  rest  of  the  summer :  in  the  thrice  empty 
dreariness  of  Gramercy  Park  I  was  to  be  immured,  while 
the  others  whiled  away  the  pleasant  weeks  at  Newport  and 
Nahant.  The  Wynkars,  Capt.  McGuffy  and  Phil  had  con 
sented  to  make  their  plans  agree  with  the  Churchills,  and 
Mr.  Rutledge  had  promised  to  join  them  in  the  course  of  a 
fortnight.  He  had  made  his  arrangements  to  leave  home  on 
the  same  day  that  we  did,  and  accompany  us  part  of  the 
way ;  business  in  the  western  part  of  the  State  would  occupy 
him  for  some  ten  days ;  but,  at  the  end  of  that  time,  he  pro 
posed  rejoining  the  party  at  Newport.  Nothing  had  been 
said  to  me  about  my  plans,  but  I  knew  from  something  that 
escaped  inadvertently,  that  the  subject  had  been  canvassed, 
and  it  had  been  decided  that  the  income  allowed  me  would 
not  warrant  such  an  expense,  and  that,  with  Frances,  I  was 
to  be  dropped  at  home,  while  mamma's  maid  should  serve 
also  for  Josephine  and  Grace  for  the  remainder  of  the  sum 
mer.  I  should  have  loathed  the  gaiety  of  Newport,  the 
crowd  and  the  excitement  would  have  been  insupportable 
to  me ;  but  the  prospect  of  being  smothered  in  that  silent, 
dark  house  in  the  hot  city,  hateful  with  memories  of  my  re 
cent  illness,  and  with  trials  that  I  could  never  forget,  was 
even  harder  to  anticipate.  But  I  had  to  submit.  What  a 
future  for  seventeen. 

"  Wait  till  December,"  whispered  Hope,  just  stirring  his 


BU  T  L  E  D  G  E  .  463 

wounded,  drooping  wings,  just  trembling  with  a  faint  life 
that  for  days  had  seemed  extinct.  "  Yes,"  I  thought,  with 
a  bitter  sigh,  "  in  December  I  shall  be  of  age,  it  will  be  a 
glorious  thing  to  be  my  own  mistress  !  To  begin  the  world 
when  I've  lost  all  interest  in  it — to  do  as  I  please  when 
there's  nothing  on  earth  that  pleases  me — to  be  free  from 
restraint  and  authority,  and  from  all  human  love  and  care ! 
To  be  independent !  God  help  me !  What  a  glorious  thing 
it  will  be.  All  hope  points  to  December !" 

But  my  release,  such  as  it  was,  was  nearer  than  Decem 
ber.  I  might  have  spared  myself  the  hateful  anticipations 
with  which  I  blackened  the  fresh  summer  morning.  I  had 
not  seen  any  further  into  futurity  than  the  rest  of  the  human 
family,  who  fret  about  their  fate  and  look  whole  years 
ahead,  and  put  the  misery  of  a  lifetime  into  the  present, 
and  torture  themselves  about  what  they  know  is,  and  fear 
is  to  be,  till  the  flood  of  God's  judgment  comes  and  sweeps 
all  away,  and  leaves  them  bewildered  in  the  midst  of  a 
strange  desolation  and  a  new  terror. 

"  Phil."  said  Capt.  McGuffy,  as  we  rode  slowly  along 
through  the  loveliest,  freshest  country,  washed  by  last 
night's  rain,  and  gleaming  in  the  morning  sun — of  which  I 
had  not  seen  one  beauty,  in  my  absorbing  anxiety — "  Phil, 
may  I  trust  this  young  lady  to  you,  if  I  leave  you  at  the 
cross-road  ?  I  want  to  ride  over  to  Brandon  for  half  an 
hour  before  dinner." 

"  Oh,  Captain  McGuffy !"  I  exclaimed,  startled  out  of 
future  fears  by  present  dangers,  "why  do  you  take  that 
tiresome  ride  this  morning?  It  will  be  sunny  and  disa 
greeable  before  you  get  back  to  Rutledge ;  wait  till  after 
dinner." 

The  captain  still  leaned  to  the  idea  of  accomplishing  it  all 
"  under  one  head,"  and  having  the  rest  of  the  day  at  home  • 
I  didn't  dare  to  press  the  subject,  but  seeing  my  only 
chance  lay  in  engrossing  their  attention  to  the  exclusion 
from  their  memories  of  the  Brandon  project,  T  "vorked 


±62  RUT  LEDGE. 

faithfully  to  accomplish  my  design,  and  succeeded  in  a 
great  measure.  Before  we  had  gone  another  half  mile,  I 
had  enticed  the  captain  into  the  enthusiastic  description  of 
a  bull-baiting  in  Mexico,  at  which  Phil  and  he  had 
"  assisted,"  and  into  the  recollection  of  which  they  both 
seemed  to  enter  with  great  ardor.  We  were  on  the  top  of 
Ridgway  Hill — the  road  for  a  good  mile  stretched  away  at 
its  foot,  while  on  the  left,  branched  off  the  Brandon  turn 
pike. 

"  Heaven  send  they  may  forget  it !"  I  ejaculated,  bend 
ing  forward  to  renew  my  questions  about  the  bull-baiting. 
The  carriages  were  coming  close  behind — the  bull-fight  soon 
began  to  Hag. 

"  Phil,"  began  the  captain  again. 

"  Capt.  McGuffy,"  I  cried,  "  Madge  is  fairly  beside  her 
self  this  morning,  I  can  hardly  hold  her ;  we  have  been 
creeping  all  the  way  from  the  Grove,  what  do  you  say  to  a 
race,  a  bona  fide  race,  and  I'll  ask  no  favor.  It's  a  clear 
road  from  here  to  Rutledge,  and  he's  the  best  fellow  who 
clears  the  park  gate  first !" 

"  Done  !"  cried  the  captain,  catching  fire  from  my  eyes ; 
and  before  another  minute,  we  were  off"  on  the  maddest 
race  I  ever  ran  or  hope  to  run.  For  a  while,  the  three 
straining  beasts  were  nearly  neck  and  neck,  the  three 
dilated  nostrils  and  fiery  eyes  were  nearly  on  a  line ;  then 
gradually,  very  gradually,  Madge's  black  head  gained  an 
inch  or  so  upon  them,  an  inch  or  so,  and  then  we  were  a 
foot  in  advance.  Phil  drove  the  spurs  into  his  horse — ho 
sprang  forward,  but  soon  fell  back  again — the  captain  urged 
Vagabond  on  with  lash  and  oath  ;  I  did  not  move  the 
loosened  bridle  on  Madge's  neck — steady  and  unswerving 
she  kept  the  road,  each  spimg  as  even  and  as  sure  as  if 
measured  and  done  by  rule—no  relaxing  of  the  eager 
neck — no  gasping  in  the  even  breath.  I  only  saw,  with  a 
Leartfelt  sigh  of  relief,  that  the  Brandon  turnpike  lay 
unnoticed  far  behind  us,  and  Madge  might  take  us  where 


RUTLBDGE.  463 

*he  liked  :  but  when  I  dashed  through  the  park  gate,  half  a 
dozen  yards  in  advance  of  Phil,  and  the  captain  in  a 
fury  with  Vagabond,  perfectly  blown,  quarter  of  a  mile 
in  the  rear,  I  was  quite  helpless  and  weak  from  excite 
ment. 

"  I  don't  know  which  to  be  proudest  of,  the  young  lady 
or  the  mare,"  said  Stephen,  as  he  lifted  me  down.  "I 
wouldn't  have  missed  seeing  you  come  in  for  considerable 
money." 

I  hurried  into  the  house  and  upstairs,  leaving  Phil  to  make 
all  explanations  and  apologies :  Kitty  had  seen  me,  and  fol 
lowed  close  behind  me. 

"  Well  ?"  I  asked,  breathlessly,  as  she  closed  the  door. 

"  Nothing,  Miss,  nothing  has  happened.  Do  lie  down  and 
rest ;  you  look  fit  to  drop." 

"  But  he  is  well  ?  What  did  he  say — has  nothing  hap 
pened  ?" 

"  Nothing  has  happened.  I  only  saw  him  for  a  moment 
yesterday.  Mrs.  Roberts  kept  me  close  at  marking  linen 
all  the  rest  of  the  day  and  evening  ;  and  this  morning  I  had 
only  a  few  moments  to  speak  to  him  when  I  went  in,  for 
her  door  was  open  a  crack,  and  I  didn't  dare  to  stay :  you 
look  so  tired — won't  you  let  me  undress  you  ?" 

"  But  how  did  he  seem  ?  what  did  he  say  about  my  being 
away  ?" 

"  Oh  !"  returned  Kitty,  rather  uneasily,  "  he  asked  why 
the  house  was  so  quiet,  and  whether  you'd  got  back  yet : 
he  looks  a  little  pale  and  badly,  but  I'm  sure  that's  natural 
enough.  Anybody  would  get  pale  and  gloomy  shut  up 
day  after  day  in  that  awful  room,  among  all  poor  Miss 
Alice's  books  and  pictures  and  things,  all  looking  so  dusty 
and  dismal ;  it  gives  me  a  shudder  only  to  go  inside  the 
door." 

"  But  he  doesn't  know  anything  about  her ;  you've  never 
told  him  anything  about  the  room  ?" 

•*  I  didn't  mean  to,  Miss ;  I  had  no  thought  of  opening 


464  RT3TLEDGE. 

my  lips  about  it ;  but  he  made  me  tell  him — he  wouldn't  be 
satisfied  till  I  had  told  him  every  word  I  knew  about  the 
family  troubles.  What  put  it  into  his  head  to  ask,  I  think 
was  something  he  had  come  across  in  a  French  book  he  had 
been  reading ;  it  was  a  little  note  that  had  marked  the 
place.  He  held  it  in  his  hand  as  I  came  in,  and  he  looked 
so  white  and  strange,  I  was  almost  frightened.  Oh,  so 
many  questions  as  he  put  me !  so  eager  as  he  was :  He 
seemed  to  look  so  through  and  through  me  \nth  those 
black  eyes  of  his,  I  didn't  dare  to  keep  back  anything  I 
knew.  And  then  he  asked  me  about  master;  if  he  had 
really  loved  his  sister — if  he  had  grieved  for  her,  and  tried 
to  find  her  out,  or  if  he  held  her  memory  in  contempt — if  he 
tried  to  forget  that  she  had  ever  lived,  and  hated  to  hear 
her  name." 

"  You  didn't  tell  him  that  he  did,  Kitty  ?" 
"  How  could  I  help  it,  Miss  ?  You  would  not  have  had 
me  tell  him  a  lie.  I  had  to  tell  him  how  it  was.  I  had  to 
tell  him  that  her  name  was  forbidden  here — that  no  one 
dared  for  their  lives  to  breathe  a  word  about  those  times 
to  the  master — that  her  picture,  and  all  that  belonged  to 
her,  was  put  out  of  sight  forever — that  her  room  was  shut 
up  and  hid  as  much  from  the  living,  as  the  poor  lady  was 
herself  in  her  lonesome  grave  beyond  seas.  And  he  clenched 
his  hand  till  the  blood  sprung  under  his  nails,  and  his 
very  lips  were  white  like  the  wall ;  he  said  so  low  I  could 
just  hear  him,  'but  he  shall  not  forget!'  I  am  no  coward, 
Miss,  but  I  confess  I  was  right  glad  when  I  got  outside 
again." 

All  that  wretched  day  I  watched  for  a  chance  to  see  him. 
Kitty,  nearly  as  anxious  as  I  was  myself,  hovered  around  to 
try  to  clear  the  way  for  me,  but  in  vain.  No  other  day  had 
the  upper  hall  been  so  favorite  a  resort.  Josephine  had  or 
dered  her  trunks  to  be  put  out  there,  and  Ella's  also,  and 
Frances  was  packing  them.  Ellerton  and  Grace,  lounging 
on  the  stairs,  watched  the  operation,  Mrs.  Churchill  sat  with 


R  U  T  L  K  T;  Q   E  .  4:6* 

cer  door  open.  1  cannot  possibly  describe  the  misery  it 
gave  me  to  know  what  danger  might  arise  from  this  delay. 
I  knew  too  mucli  already  of  Victor's  morbid  jealousy,  to 
imagine  it  was  not  brooding  now  over  this  long  neglect. 
The  hours  were  leaden-winged  and  fiery-footed ;  each  slow 
passing  one  seemed  to  burn  into  my  very  soul.  . 

Kitty  wiped  away  frequent  tears  as  she  busied  herself 
about  my  packing;  there  were  no  tears  in  my  eyes  as  I 
walked  quickly  up  and  down  the  room,  or  lay,  face  down 
ward  on  the  bed,  trying  to  stifle  thoughts  that  I  could  not 
endure. 

"There's  dinner!"  said  Kitty,  ruefully.  "And  there's 
no  hope  of  any  more  chance  after  it.  Mrs.  Roberts  is  at 
her  eternal  knitting  in  the  hall  window,  and  Frances  won't 
stop  packing  these  four  hours  yet.  But  don't  you  worry, 
Miss ;  I'll  manage  it,  somehow.  Go  down  to  dinner,  and 
don't  fret !" 

Of  course  not,  why  should  I  ?  What  was  there  in  my 
cimnnstances  to  occasion  it  ?  Nothing,  of  course ;  and 
nothing,  either,  to  fret  about  in  Josephine's  taunts  and 
Grace's  sauciness,  in  the  cold  eyes  of  my  aunt,  in  Ella's 
supercilious  scorn ;  nothing  to  fret  about  when  the  captain 
talked  of  the  murder  and  the  evidence,  the  state  of  the 
public  mind,  and  the  state  of  his  own  private  mind,  in  re 
gard  to  it ;  when  Ellerton  talked  about  the  news  from  town, 
and  the  letters  he  had  just  received  from  some  of  his  ines 
timable  chums  there  resident,  and  of  the  inexplicable  nature 
of  the  fact  that  none  of  them  had  spoken  of  meeting  or 
seeing  Victor  before  he  sailed,  and  of  his  own  conviction 
that  it  was  very  strange  we  had  heard  nothing  from  him 
since  he  left,  very  strange. 

"  Oh !"  cried  Grace,  "  that's  the  way,  they  say,  with 
these  foreigners,  adventurers,  may  be.  You  mustn't  be  aston 
ished,  my  dear  (turning  pleasantly  to  me),  you  mustn't  be  as 
tonished  if  you  shouldn't  hear  from  him  'never  no  more.' 
These  French  meteors,  they  say,  sometimes  flash  through 

20* 


4:66  BUT  LEDGE. 

society  in  that  way,  and  dazzle  everybody,  then  sink  into 
their  native  night  again.  And  you  know  it  is  just  possible 
our  Victor  may  be  of  that  order ;  but,  of  course,  I  don't 
want  to  distress  you,  only  it's  as  well  you  should  be  pre 
pared." 

"  Grace,  hush !  you  are  a  saucy  child ;  but  really  it  is  odd 
that  we  have  never  heard  a  word  from  him  since  he  left." 

"  Did  you  expect  to,  Josephine  ?  I  didn't  suppose  you 
had  made  any  arrangements  to  correspond.  I  am  sorry  I 
didn't  know  how  deep  your  interest  was,  I  might  have  re 
lieved  your  mind  before.  Mr.  Viennet  is  very  well.  I 
have  heard  from  him  more  than  once  since  we  parted." 

An  exclamation  of  surprise  went  round  the  table ;  I  was 
overwhelmed  with  questions  and  reproaches. 

"You  might  have  told  us,  really,  now  I  think,"  said 
Ellerton. 

"  Why  did  you  not  ask  me,  then  ?" 

"  Why,  we  thought  you'd  tell,  to  be  sure.  We  didn't 
know  how  sacred  you  considered  his  epistles." 

"What  sort  of  a  journey  did  he  have  ?  What  day  did 
he  get  in  town  ?" 

"  He  didn't  say  much  about  his  journey.  I  fancy  from 
something  he  said  that  he  met  with  some  detentions." 

"  Didn't  he  send  any  messages  to  anybody  ?" 

"  None  that  I  remember." 

"Ungrateful  rascal!" 

"  He  succeeded,  I  suppose,  in  getting  a  state-room  ?  He 
had  some  fears  that  he  would  be  too  late." 

"  He  didn't  say  a  word  about  it." 

"  Absurd !  what  did  he  talk  about,  then  ?" 

"  Not  about  his  journey,  nor  his  stateroom,  nor  you, 
Josephine ;  but  you  know  there  are  more  things,  and  as  in 
teresting,  in  heaven  and  earth,  to  us  both,  strange  as  it  may 
seem  to  you." 

"  Pardon  !     I  had  forgotten !" 

**  You  won't  hear  again  before  the  Persia  is  in.  will  you  ?" 


EC1LEDGE.  467 

"  That  will  be  in  three  weeks,  will  it  not  ?" 

"  Yes ;  that  will  be  after  we  are  at  Newport.  To  whose 
,;are  do  your  letters  come  addressed  ?" 

"  Really,  Mr.  Wynkar,  you  are  too  kind.  Your  interest 
is  so  unexpected !" 

"  Let  us  all  drink  to  his  bon  voyage,"  said  the  captain, 
filling  rny  glass. 

"  Avec  plaisir,"  cried  Josephine,  and  Phil  said  heartily, 
as  he  poured  her  out  a  glass : 

"  Victor's  a  good  fellow ;  ha  has  my  best  wishes  on  land 
or  sea." 

"And  mine,"  said  Mr.  Rutledge,  very  low. 

Why  was  there  a  hush  around  the  table  as  that  toast  was 
drank  ?  Why  did  a  sort  of  shade  creep  over  the  careless 
mirth  of  the  company  ?  Not  surely  because  they  guessed 
that  he  whose  health  they  drank  was  within  hearing,  almost, 
of  their  words,  nor  because  they  knew  how  fallen  and  how 
wretched  he  was ;  but  because,  perhaps  unconsciously,  the 
gloom  on  their  host's  face,  and  the  misery  on  mine,  damped 
for  a  moment  their  gaiety  and  confidence. 

"  The  last  day  at  Rutledge !"  murmured  Josephine,  witli 
a  pretty  sigh,  as  we  left  the  dining-room.  "  I  cannot  beai 
to  think  of  it.  I  never  had  so  happy  a  fortnight  in  my  life. 
Shall  any  of  us  ever  forget  this,  visit  ?" 

"  It  doesn't  seem  as  if  we'd  been  here  a  week,"  said  Ella, 
«  does  it  ?" 

"  A  week !  It  seems  to  me  a  year  \"  I  exclaimed,  invo 
luntarily. 

"  That  doesn't  speak  well  for  your  enjoyment,  at  all 
events ;  Mr.  Rutledge  will  never  ask  you  to  come  again. 
Will  you,  Mr.  Kutledge?" 

"  I  am  afraid,  Miss  Wynkar,  that  it  will  be  out  of  my 
power  to  enjoy  the  honor  of  any  one's  society  here  for  a 
long  while  to  come.  I  am  going  abroad  in  the  course  of  a 
month,  and  " 


468  BUTLEDGK. 

"  You,  Mr.  Rutledge !"  exclaimed  more  than  one  voice, 
and  Josephine's  color  suffered  a  shade  of  diminution. 

"  It  is  a  sudden  determination,  it  is  not,  sir  ?"  asked 
Phil. 

"  No,  I  have  been  thinking  of  it  for  some  weeks,  but  1 
•  have  not  till  recently  had  much  idea  of  the  time  I  should 
start." 

"  Mr.  Rutledge  does  not  look  upon  crossing  the  Atlantic 
for  a  few  mouths,  as  any  way  more  formidable  than  going 
to  town  for  a  night,  he  has  been  such  a  traveller,"  said  Mrs. 
Churchill,  with  admirable  composure ;  but  I  knew  the 
effort  that  it  cost  her.  "  You  do  not  think  of  being  absent 
long,  I  suppose  ?" 

"  It  is  uncertain  ;  I  shall  make  my  arrangements  to  be 
gone  for  about  two  years,  but  something  may  occur  to 
detain  me  longer,  in  which  case  I  can  easily  settle  all  things 
here  by  letter.  I  have  trusty  persons  in  my  employ,  and  I 
think  there  is  no  chance  of  my  presence  being  necessary  at 
home  for  a  long  while  to  come." 

"  I  envy  you,"  said  Ellerton ;  "  I  wish  I  could  run  off 
for  a  year  or  two." 

I  saw  Josephine's  lips  move,  but  she  could  not  command 
her  voice,  and,  bending  down,  she  caressed  Tigre  with  a 
nervous  hand.  I  could  not  but  pity  her  ;  I  had  not 
realized  before  how  much  her  heart  had  been  set  upon 
this  match  ;  and  wounded  pride  is  next  in  sting  to  wounded 
love. 

The  gentlemen  lit  their  cigars,  and  talked  of  Mr.  Rut- 
ledge's  plans ;  we  all  lounged  idly  about  the  north  end  of 
the  hall ;  the  doors  were  all  open,  and  a  fine  fresh  breeze 
came  in.  I  had  been  listening  anxiously  to  a  faint  sound 
overhead,  where  I  knew  too  well ;  a  hasty  stride  from  one 
end  to  the  other  of  the  room  above  us. 

"  Hark !"  cried  Grace,  *  what's  that  ?    I  heard  the 
sound  this  morning." 


R  U  T  L  E  D  G  E  .  4.69 

Every  one  sloppy  1  talking,  and  listened. 

"  The  house  is  haunted,  you  may  depend,"  said  Jose 
phine.  "  There  have  been  strange  noises  next  my  room 
for  the  last  three  nights." 

"  That's  a  peculiar  sound.  What  do  you  make  of  it,  Mr. 
Rutledge  ?"  said  Ellerton,  walking  toward  the  stairs. 

"  It  is  nothing,"  he  returned,  advancing  that  way  too. 
"  Some  of  the  servants  are  up  there  now,  perhaps ;  I  will 
go  and  see.  Don't  trouble  yourself,  Mr.  Wynkar." 

"  I'll  go,"  I  cried,  starting  forward.  "  Perhaps  it's  Kitty, 
she  may  be  waiting  for  me." 

Ellerton  paused  and  listened;  Mr.  Rutledge  passed  up 
before  him,  followed  closely  by  Tigre.  I  brushed  past 
Ellerton  and  kept  close  to  Mr.  Rutledge.  Mrs.  Roberts 
was  standing  at  the  head  of  the  stairs. 

"  Mrs.  Roberts,"  said  Ellerton,  "  we're  investigating  an 
unusual  noise  up  here.  Can  you  account  for  it  ?" 

Now,  Mrs.  Roberts  never  could  abide  the  insinuation 
that  anything  might  possibly  be  going  on  of  which  she  was 
ignorant ;  if  she  had  nosed  anything  herself,  she  did  not,  as 
we  have  seen,  lack  zeal  in  ferreting  it  out,  but  it  was  impos 
sible  to  put  her  on  a  new  scent ;  she  refused  to  acknowledge 
any  other  sagacity  than  her  own.  So,  on  the  present  occa 
sion,  as  she  had  heard  no  noise,  she  utterly  scouted  the 
idea,  and  assigned  some  trifling  cause  for  it ;  the  girls,  she 
said,  had  been  in  the  attic,  clearing  out  an  old  store-room ; 
probably  that  was  what  Mr.  Rutledge  had  heard.  Ellerton 
hurried  down  to  inform  the  ladies  of  the  explanation,  and 
Mr.  Rutledge,  crossing  the  hall,  was  going  toward  his 
dressing-room,  when  Tigre,  who  had  been  exploring  the 
neighborhood,  now  rushed  whining  along  the  hall,  with  his 
nose  to  the  floor.  The  attention  of  all  was  attracted  to 
him ;  he  darted  under  the  wardrobe,  and  began  scratching 
and  growling  earnestly  at  the  door  of  Victor's  hiding-place. 
I  followed  Mr.  Rutledge's  quick  glance  from  my  face  to 
the  wardrobe,  and,  starting  forward,  I  tried  to  call  off"  Tigre. 


470  BUT  LEDGE. 

"  Come  here,  sir !  Come  here,  I  say !"  But  he  was  too 
intent  upon  his  discovery  to  heed  me. 

"He  is»a  little  nuisance,"  said  Mrs.  Roberts.  "I  never 
approved  having  him  allowed  to  come  upstairs." 

"  Tigre,  what  are  you  after,  sir  ?"  said  Mr.  Rutledge,  a? 
he  walked  down  the  hall  toward  him. 

"  Oh,  nothing,  I'm  sure,  sir,  nothing !"  I  cried,  following 
him.  "Don't  scold  him.  Tigre,  come  out,  you  rascal! 
come  out,  I  say!"  and  I  stamped  vehemently  on  the 
floor. 

"  He  will  not  mind  you,"  said  Mr.  Rutledge,  in  a  low 
voice.  "  He  will  obey  his  instincts,  and  persevere  till  he 
has  reached  the  object  of  his  search." 

"  He  isn't  searching  for  anything,"  I  exclaimed,  dropping 
down  on  my  knees  and  stooping  till  I  could  see  under  the 
wardrobe.  "  If  I  could  only  reach  him.  Tigre — you  tor 
ment — if  you  don't  come,  I'll  whip  you,  so  /  Here,  here, 
poor  fellow !  Come  here,  my  pet !" 

Tigre  desisted  a  moment  from  his  whining,  and  wavered 
in  his  determination.  I  thrust  my  arm  under  the  ward 
robe,  seized  him,  and  drew  him,  yelping,  out  ;  then, 
springing  up,  ran  across  the  hall,  and  almost  threw  him 
into  my  room.  Mr.  Rutledge  watched  me  silently  with 
a  contracted  brow,  and  crossing  over  to  his  own  room,  shut 
himself  into  it. 

Not  a  very  faithful  index,  certainly  of  the  real  feelings 
of  men  and  women,  is  to  be  obtained  from  their  outward 
and  visible  emotions.  A  very  gay  party,  no  doubt,  the 
visitors  who  came  that  night  to  Rutledge,  thought  they 
found  there.  They  little  guessed  how  unhappy  and  disap 
pointed  a  man  their  courteous  host  was,  nor  that  Mrs. 
Churchill,  serene  and  charming,  was  looking  in  the  lace  the 
failure  .of  the  hopes  of  years,  nor  that  the  pretty  Jose 
phine's  smiles  were  in  ghastly  contrast  with  the  bitterness 
of  her  spirit ;  nor  that  Phil,  who  knew  her  face  too  well  to 
be  deceived  by  them,  was  smarting  under  the  realizing 


BTJTLEDGE.  471 

sense  it  gave  him  of  her  ambition  and  woridtiaess.  And  if 
they  had  guessed  the  interpretation  of  my  gaiety ! 

There  were  just  enough  of  us  to  make  the  dancing 
spirited,  and  to  keep  every  one  on  the  floor.  We  had 
before  always  danced  in  the  parlors,  but  some  evil  spirit 
prompted  Grace  to  propose  that  we  should  try  a  double  set 
of  Lancers  in  the  hah1.  Everybody,  encouraged,  doubtless, 
by  their  attendant  evil  spirits,  seemed  to  think  nothing 
could  be  more  delightful  than  the  hall,  and  urged  the  mov 
ing  of  the  piano  out  there ;  and  there  we  adjourned.  I 
tried  not  to  remember  how  plainly  we  could  be  heard  in  a 
certain  room  at  the  end  of  the  hall  above  ;  how  the  laugh- 
ing  and  the  music  would  grate  on  the  jealous  ears  there. 
If  he  caught  the  tones  of  my  voice,  he  would  not  know 
that  I  laughed  because  I  must  keep  pace  with  the  captain's 
jokes,  and  encourage  him  in  punning  and  joke-making,  to 
keep  him  from  the  hideous  topic  that  he  always  turned  to 
when  left  to  himself ;  and  to  drive  away  the  suspicion  that 
sharpened  Mr.  Rutledge's  eyes,  and  to  keep  Mr.  Masou 
my  admirer,  and  no  more. 

"  Like  the  lady  of '  Old  Oak  Chest '  memory, '  I'm  weary 
of  dancing,'  "  I  cried  at  length,  "  let's  amuse  ourselves  some 
other  way." 

"Play  hide-and-seek,  like  that  ancient  party?"  asked 
Phil,  throwing  himself  on  the  lowest  step  of  the  stairs. 

"  That's  not  a  bad  suggestion!"  exclaimed  Grace.  "  This 
is  just  the  place  for  such  an  adventure.  I  don't  mean  that 
I  want  anybody  to  be  smothered  in  a  chest  exactly,  but  lost 
for  a  little  while,  and  hunted  for,  you  know.  It  would  be 
so  jolly." 

"  So  it  would !"  echoed  Ellerton. 

"  And  there's  no  end  of  capital  hiding-places  about  the 
house,  so  many  odd  rooms  where  you'd  never  expect  them ; 
and  acres  of  attic,  beyond  a  doubt !" 

"  Come !"  cried  Josephine,  "  we're  all  ripe  for  adventure. 
Let's  have  a  game  of  hide-and-seek." 


4r72  BUTLEDO*,. 

"Delightful!"  cried  the  youngest  Miss  Mason. 

"I'm  ready  for  anything,"  said  Phil,  getting  up  and 
shaking  himself. 

"  I'm  afraid  you  will  not  find  any  oak  chests,"  said  Mr. 
Rutledge,  discouragingly. 

"  Oh  !  yes,  we  will,"  cried  Grace,  "  chests,  and  crannies, 
and  closets,  and  wardrobes,  and  trap-doors  without  number. 
A  regiment  of  soldiers  might  be  hid  away  in  this  house  and 
nobody  the  wiser." 

Everybody  was  in  the  spirit  of  it  now,  and  it  was  useless 
to  oppose. 

"  Who  shall  hide  first  ?"  demanded  Grace. 

"  Oh,  your  cousin,  of  course !"  cried  the  captain.  "  She 
proposed  the  game." 

I  was  voted  in  by  acclamation. 

"  And  you  must  take  somebody  with  you,  it  will  make  it 
more  exciting,  but  you  must  hide  in  separate  places,"  added 
Grace. 

"  Very  well ;  the  captain  must  go  out  with  me,  and  you 
must  all  go  into  the  parlor,  and  promise,  on  your  honor,  to 
stay  there  five  minutes  by  the  clock,  and  then  we  give  you 
leave  to  find  us." 

"  "We  promise,"  said  Ellerton ;  "  but  remember,  you  are 
to  hide  somewhere  in  the  house,  and  to  surrender  yourselves 
in  half  an  hour  if  you  are  not  found  before." 

*'  Always  provided,"  said  the  captain,  shutting  the  parlor- 
doors  upon  them,  "  that  we're  not  smothered  in  some  old 
chest  in  the  meantime," 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

"  Sweetest  lips  that  ever  were  kissed, 

Brightest  eyes  that  ever  have  shone, 
May  sigh  and  whisper,  and  he  not  list, 
Or  look  away,  and  never  be  missed 
Long  or  ever  a  month  be  gone." 

"  WHERE  shall  we  go  ?"  said  the  captain,  in  a  whisper 
as  we  paused  in  the  hall  irresolutely. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  the  dining-room,  behind  the  tall 
clock  for  one  of  us  ?" 

The  captain  shook  his  head. 

"  They'll  look  there  the  first  thing  ;  it  will  not  do.  But 
in  the  second  story,  there's  a  huge  old  wardrobe  that  I've 
noticed  at  the  north  end,  that  would  be  a  capital  place  for 
one." 

"  Yes,  I  know  where  you  mean,  but  I  think  it's  locked, 
and  we  haven't  the  key,  and  it  would  take  too  long  to  hunt 
up  the  housekeeper  and  get  it.  There's  the  lower  part  of  a 
bookcase  in  the  library  empty.  Captain  McGuffy,  if  you 
only  could  get  into  it!  Not  even  Mr.  Rutledge  knows 
about  it.  Mrs.  Roberts  only  cleared  the  books  out  of  it  last 
week,  and  you'd  be  as  safe  as  possible.  Do  try  if  you  can't 
arrange  it,  and  I'll  go  somewhere  upstairs ;  I  know  a  place." 

Captain  McGuffy  consented,  and  we  hurried  to  the  libra 
ry.  The  hiding-place  was  not  so  large  as  I  had  fancied, 
but  still  my  companion  agreed  to  risk  it.  He  doubled  up 
like  a  jack-knife ;  it  was  perfectly  wonderful  to  me  how  ho 
ever  got  his  long  limbs  into  so  small  a  compass. 

"  Are  you  comfortable  ?"  I  asked,  smothering  a  laugh. 

"  Don't  shut  the  door  tight,"  he  whispered,  hoarsely.  "  I 
can't  stand  this  long." 

«n 


RUTLEDGE. 

I  had  no  time  for  more  lengthened  condolences,  but  hur 
ried  off  to  dispose  of  myself.  The  second  story  was  entirely 
clear ;  the  servants  were  all  downstairs  ;  Mrs.  Roberts  was 
busy  about  supper.  I  resolved  to  hide  behind  the  linen- 
press  outside  her  door ;  but  first,  I  thought,  if  I  were  quick, 
I  could  go  one  instant  to  Victor's  door,  whisper  my  excuses, 
and  promise  to  come  back  when  they  were  all  gone.  It 
was  rather  a  dangerous  thing  to  do,  but  the  moment  I  heard 
the  parlor-door  open,  I  could  fly  to  my  hiding-place;  I 
dared  not  lose  this  chance. 

Moving  aside  the  wardrobe  with,  some  effort,  I  tapped 
low  at  the  door.  Again — and  no  answer.  "  Victor,"  I 
whispered  at  the  key-hole,  "  come  to  the  door  one  moment ;" 
but  not  a  sound  from  within. 

Apprehension  of  I  do  not  know  what  new  danger  over 
came  my  prudence,  and  I  wasted  the  few  precious  seconds 
I  had  to  spare  in  irresolution.  When  it  was  too  late  to 
effect  my  escape,  I  heard  the  door  of  the  parlor  burst  open, 
and  Josephine's  voice  crying,  "  Allons !"  They  separated 
to  all  parts  of  the  house,  Grace,  Janet,  and  Ellerton  flying 
up  the  stairs.  There  was  but  one  thing  for  me  to  do :  I 
hurriedly  pulled  the  wardrobe  after  me  into  its  place, 
opened  the  door,  entered,  and  closed  it  stealthily  behind 
me.  Only  when  I  was  in  it,  did  I  realize  the  folly  of  what 
I  had  done.  The  room  was  as  dark  and  silent  as  the  grave  ; 
such  a  silence  and  such  a  darkness  as  would  have  chilled  a 
stouter  heart  than  mine.  I  whispered  Victor's  name — there 
was  no  answer.  Had  he  fled,  then,  and  .was  I  alone  in  this 
horrid  room — shut  up  in  it  for  hours  perhaps?  No  I  I 
would  risk  all  and  grope  my  way  out,  no  matter  if  I  en 
countered  them  all.  I  could  endure  this  no  longer.  All 
Kitty  had  told  me — all  I  ever  fancied  of  the  ghastly  terrors 
of  the  room — crowded  into  my  mind,  and,  starting  forward, 
I  attempted  to  find  the  door,  but  in  my  bewilderment  and 
the  utter  blackness  around  me,  I  must  have  turned  away, 
instead  of  toward  it.  My  outstretched  hand  struck  against 


RUTLEDGE.  -*75 

an  icy  BU  rface ;  I  screamed  and  started  back,  my  foot  slipped 
and  I  fell,  striking  my  temple  heavily  against  some  projec 
tion.  The  fall  and  the  blow  stunned  me  for  awhile ;  then 
returning  consciousness  suggested  all  that  they  had  merci 
fully  absolved  me  from.  Alice  Rutledge's  neglected,  dis 
honored  room — Alice  Rutledge's  sin-troubled  spirit  haunt 
ing  it — the  curses  that  had  been  spoken  in  it — the  agony 
that  had  been  endured  in  it — the  years  of  silence  that  had 
passed  over  it — and  now,  a  murderer's  hiding-place — a 
murderer  with  crime  fresh  upon  him.  And  oh !  the  horror 
of  that  crime  !  It  seemed  almost  as  if  it  had  been  me  in 
stead  of  Victor  who  had  done  it.  My  brain  seemed  reeling 
• — had  I  not  been  there — had  I  not  seen — heard — that  of 
which  I  never  lost  the  memory — or  was  it  only  haunting 
me  from  another's  lips?  Was  that  avenging  ghost  here, 
too — within  the  limits  of  this  dreadful  room?  Was  that  a 
touch  of  human  hand  upon  my  breast  ? — was  it  fancy,  or— 
or — was  that  a  breath  upon  my  cheek  ?  A  thousand  horrid 
whispers — hollow  laughter — dying  shrieks — filled  the  air; 
within  these  accursed  walls,  it  was  weird  and  unearthly  all ; 
without,  I  heard,  but  as  through  triple  dungeon  walls,  -the 
voices  of  those  I  had  left  behind ;  I  heard  their  steps  over 
head,  their  searching,  high  and  low,  in  every  nook  and  cor 
ner  for  me ;  I  heard  them  call  my  name,  and  pause  for 
answer.  I  tried  to  call,  but  a  nightmare  stifled  my  voice. 
As  one  might  feel  who  had  buried,  himself  yet  living — who 
had  pulled  the  coffin-lid  down  on  his  own  head,  and  heard 
the  devils  eagerly  filling  the  grave  up  and  laughing  at  t'neir 
work — and  at  each  new  shovelful  of  heavy  clay  had  felt  the 
distance  between  him  and  life  grow  shorter,  and  felt  the 
weight  press  heavier  and  heavier,  and  the  horror  and  tho 
darkness  grow  tighter  and  tighter  around  him,  and  the  re 
morse,  and  the  helplessness,  and  the  terror — so  I  felt  that 
hideous  night,  and  sw  I  feel  whenever  I  remember  it. 

The  house  quieted,  I  heard  the  carriages  drive  away,  then 
the  faint  good-nights,  and  the  closing  of  the  many  doors. 


4:76  BUT  I.  EDGE. 

and  all  grew  into  repose.  That  was  cruel ;  they  had  for 
gotten  me — they  had  given  me  up  easily !  But  I  would 
make  them  hear — I  would  get  out  of  this  sepulchral  place, 
and  I  started  to  my  feet.  Just  then  the  handle  of  the  door 
turned,  and  a  ray  of  light  streamed  across  the  room.  It 
was  Mr.  Rutledge  who  entered;  but  the  sternness  and 
whiteness  of  his  face  repressed  the  cry  of  joy  with  which  I 
had  started  forward.  The  light,  though,  had  put  all  the 
ghastly  train  to  flight,  and  I  breathed  freer  as  I  looked 
around  and  saw  that  he  and  I  were  alone  in  the  room.  He 
closed  the  door,  and  pressing  his  hand  for  a  moment  before 
his  eyes,  looked  up  and  around  the  apartment.  I  suppose 
he  had  never  been  in  it  since  it  had  been  closed  upon  the 
flight  of  his  sister,  and  since  his  father's  curse  had  doomed 
it  to  desolation.  I  followed  his  glance  around  the  dim  and 
dusky  walls — the  familiar  pictures — the  disordered,  time- 
stained  ornaments — the  tall,  canopied  bed — the  open  ward 
robe.  A  low  groan  escaped  his  lips,  and  shaking  on  a  chair, 
he  bowed  his  head  in  his  hands  upon  the  table.  Some 
sound  from  me  at  last  aroused  him,  and  looking  up,  he 
said: 

"  I  knew  I  should  find  you  here.  What  evil  spirit 
brought  you  to  this  place !  Are  you  alone  ?" 

"  Yes,"  I  faltered,  coming  to  him,  "  I  am  alone.  Take 
me  out,  for  the  love  of  heaven  !  I  have  been  in  such  terror 
—Victor  is  not  here — I  have  " 

I  stopped,  with  an  exclamation  of  alarm.  I  had  betrayed 
my  secret. 

"  It  Ls  better  that  he  has  gone,"  he  said,  but  without  any 
surprise  ;  "  it  could  not  have  been  kept  up  much  longer.  I 
hope,  for  your  sake,  he  may  be  safe.  Flight  would  have 
been  better  a  week  ago.  I  could  have  managed  it,  but  you 
would  not  trust  me.  Did  you  really  think,"  he  continued, 
rising  slowly  from  his  seat,  and  looking  at  me  with  an  ex 
pression  compounded  of  bitterness,  and  tenderness,  and 
eadnesg,  "  did  you  really  think  I  did  not  know  you  were 


KUTLEDGE.  477 

niding  your  lover  in  my  house — that  you  were  dying  a 
thousand  deaths  in  the  midst  of  this  careless  crowd  ?  Why, 
child,"  he  said,  laying  his  hand  on  my  shoulder,  and  looking 
into  my  eyeb,  "  I  know  every  expression  of  this  face  better 
than  1  know  my  own.  1  know  its  flashes  of  fear,  its  white 
mantle  of  despair,  and  its  crimson  glow  of  love,  too  well  to 
be  deceived.  If  I  had  needed  confirmation  of  my  suspicions 
on  the  morning  after  Dr.  Hugh's  murder,  that  Victor  Vien- 
net  was  the  guilty  man,  I  should  have  had  only  to  have 
looked  in  your  face.  And  from  that  dreadful  day  to  this,  I 
have  read  there  each  event  as  it  has  come  to  pass.  I  have 
helped  you  in  your  lover's  cause,  though  you  did  not  know 
it.  I  have  worked  day  and  night  to  mislead  his  persecu 
tors,  to  allay  the  suspicions  and  blind  the  eyes  of  the  author 
ities  ;  and  I  have  nearly  succeeded.  There  is  very  little 
danger  now,  if  he  is  prudent  and  dexterous  in  his  flight. 
Do  not  tremble  so ;  you  need  not  fear  for  him.  By  this 
time  he  is  probably  beyond  the  only  part  of  his  journey 
that  was  attended  with  much  risk." 

I  burst  into  tears ;  it  was  so  hard  to  hear  him  say  all  this, 
and  talk  to  me  as  if  I  had  nothing  to  be  miserable  about, 
now  that  Victor  was  safe.  Ah !  this  was  but  the  beginning. 
A  life-time  lay  before  me  full  of  such  hours  as  this. 

"It  is  a  heavy  fate,  poor  child,"  he  said,  compassionate' v. 
"  I  would  have  saved  you  from  it  if  I  could." 

"  You  don't  know  half  how  heavy !"  I  sobbed.  "  If  you 
did,  you  wouldn't  think  it  a  sin  for  me  to  pray  to  die." 

"  Take  the  harder  penance,  and  submit  to  live.  Death 
doesn't  always  come  for  the  asking.  God  has  sent  you  a 
terrible  trial,  but  he  will  help  you  through  it  if  you  will  only 
keep  that  in  mind." 

"  No,  no.  God  did  not  send  it.  I  hare  brought  it 
on  myself — it  is  all  my  own  deed !  Oh !  if  you  only 
knew  " 

"  I  do  know.  I  know  you  are  disappointed  in  the  man 
you  love — that  you  have  found  weakness  whern  you  fancied 


4  E  U  T  L  E  D  &  E . 

strength :  but  I  know  that,  woman-like,  you  still  love,  if 
possible,  more  tenderly  than  before  your  idol  was  shat 
tered,  and  that  you  are  shrinking  now  from  the  pros 
pect  of  a  long  and  uncertain  separation.  I  pity  you,  believe 
me,  I  pity  you ;  but  these  are  griefs  that  time  has  a  cure 
for.  Do  not  talk  of  despair  till  you  have  felt  what  it  is  to 
be  unloved  and  unblest — to  be  without  an  interest  on  earth, 
with  but  a  slender  right  to  hope  in  heaven — to  be  thwarted 
in  all  you  undertake,  balked  of  all  you  desire — till  you  have 
seen  another  and  an  unworthier  hand  take  down  your  crown 
of  life,  and  wear  it  careless  in  your  sight." 

"  Perhaps  I  know  all  that  as  well  as  you,"  was  on  my  lips, 
but  I  only  hid  my  face  and  turned  away.  He  did  not  under 
stand  the  gesture,  and  said  sadly,  after  a  pause : 

"  Why  are  you  so  wretched  ?  I  have  assured  you  there 
is  little  danger,  and  what  is  there  so  insupportable  in  the 
separation  of  a  year  or  two  ?  Or  is  it  something  in  the 
manner  of  parting  ;  were  you  unprepared  to  find  him  gone  ? 
Did  he  leave  no  good  bye  ?" 

"  No,"  I  said,  glad  to  have  some  excuse  for  my  tears  ;  "  I 
never  dreamed  of  his  going — it  is  too  unkind !  And  I  shall 
never  forgive  myself  either  ;  when  I  saw  him  last,  there  waa 
some  misunderstanding,  and  I  have  not  explained  it  to  him ! 
He  has  gone  away  hi  despair  and  in  anger !  Oh,  I  shall 
never,  never  forgive  myself!" 

"  You  may  overrate  the  cause,"  said  my  companion , 
"  perhaps  he  may  have  found  it  more  prudent  to  fly  now, 
and  could  not  wait  to  see  you.  Look  about  the  room,  there 
may  be  a  letter  somewhere,  or  he  may  have  left  one  with 
Kitty." 

"  Kitty  knows  nothing  of  it,  and  I  do  not  see  any 
letter." 

"  W.hat  is  that  little  package — beyond  you — there  on  the 
table  ?" 

I  seized  it,  and,  bending  eagerly  over  the  light,  read  my 
name  upon  it.  My  hand  trembled  so  that  I  could  hardly 


KUTLEDGB.  479 

open  it.  Within  the  first  paper  there  was  a  letter ;  my  eyea 
glanced  hurriedly  over  it,  but  from  another  wrapping  some 
thing  dropped,  one  sight  of  which  served  to  make  me  grasp 
the  table  for  support,  and  drop  the  letter  on  the  floor. 

"  What  is  it  ?"  cried  my  companion,  starting  forward,  and 
picking  up  my  letter,  leading  me  to  a  chair. 

"  Read  it  to  me — I  can't — I  don't  understand,"  I  faltered, 
putting  back  the  letter  in  his  hand.  He  looked  at  me  hesi 
tatingly  a  moment,  then  read  it  aloud  : 

"  I  promised  you  freedom.  Well !  I  have  been  a  coward 
not  to  have  given  it  to  you  sooner ;  but  when  you  read  this, 
there  will  be  such  a  gulf  between  us,  that  you  may  well 
grant  a  little  pity  to  the  cowardice  that  only  feared  death 
as  a  separation  from  you — that  only  clung  to  life  as  sweet 
ened  by  your  love. 

"  It  is  trite  to  tell  you  of  my  love — to  tell  you  to  be  hap 
py — to  say  I  forgive  the  coldness  that  you  strove  to  hide — 
and  to  ask  forgiveness  for  the  pain  I  have  given  you.  You 
know  all  this — better,  much  better  than  at  this  dreadful 
hour  I  can  tell  you — and  though  you  can  never  know  in  its 
fullness  the  agony  that  the  parting  inflicts  on  me,  there  is  no 
need  that  you  should  realize  it :  I  have  done  enough  to 
make  you  miserable  already.  Forget  all  this  black  dream  ; 
it  will  soon  be  over,  and  be  again  the  happy  girl  I  found 
you. 

"  But  one  thing  more.  Would  you  know  who  it  is  to 
whom  you  had  affianced  yourself — to  whose  life  you  had 
promised  to  unite  yours — whose  name  you  had  promised  to 
bear  ?  It  is  a  good  name — mon  ange — an  ancient  name — 
an  honorable  !  Ask  your  proud  host  if  it  is  not ;  ask  him 
if  there  is  a  better  in  the  country,  or  one  that  a  woman 
need  be  prouder  to  bear.  It  is  no  new  name  to  your  ears  ; 
it  is  Hutledge  ;  the  only  name  I  have  any  claim  to,  though, 
perhaps,  my  host  would  say  that  was  but  a  slender  one  :  did 
his  sister  lose  the  ancient  and  honored  name  she  was  born 


4:80  it  U  T  L  E  D  G  E  . 

with,  when  she  lost  her  honor,  when  she  stepped  down  from 
her  high  place,  and  stooped  to  sin  ?  Or  did  she  drag  down 
that  name  with  her  in  her  fall  ?  Did  it  cling  to  her,  like  a 
robe  of  mockery  and  scorn,  only  making  her  shame  the 
greater  ;  did  it  descend  with  the  heritage  of  infamy,  to  the 
child  of  her  shame  ?  Or  did  it  die  with  her,  and  has  her 
neglected  grave  the  only  right  to  bear  the  record  of  it  ? 
Ask  our  host — he  can  tell  you  more  of  it  than  I.  But  tell 
him  I  am  not  inclined  to  dispute  it  with  him  :  I  am  not  as 
proud  of  the  name  as  he  ;  tell  him  I  loathe — I  execrate  it ! 
I  could  almost  wish  to  live  to  show  him  my  contempt  for  it 
— to  show  him  what  a  low  wretch  could  share  with  him  his 
inheritance  and  his  pride.  If  he  doubts  it — if  he  questions 
whether  the  same  blood  runs  in  our  veins,  show  him  the 
only  souvenir  I  have  to  leave  you — the  picture  of  my  father. 
4sk  him  if  he  remembers  Alice  Rutledge's  lover.  He  will 
not  need  more  damning  proof;  it  came  to  me  like  a  message 
from  the  dead — it  may  go  to  him  as  such.  Tell  him  that  a 
murderer  wrenched  it  from  his  victim's  dying  grasp  ;  that 
it  has  struck  awe  to  his  guilty  soul  at  every  glance  ;  that  it 
has  hurried  him  on  to  perdition.  But  if  he  longs  to  bo 
more  certain,  show  him  these  two  letters  ;  one  that  I  have 
worn  next  my  heart  for  years — the  other,  that  I  found  be- 
rween  the  leaves  of  a  forgotten  book  in  this  ghastly  room. 
"  The  God  whom  you  believe  in  bless  you,  and,  if  he  has 
the  right — forgive  me  ! 

"  VICTOR.'* 

"  I  don't  understand — what  does  he  mean — where  has  he 
gone  ?"  I  said,  wildly,  pressing  my  hand  to  my  head.  "  I 
am  so  bewildered,  I  can't  think.  Oh !  don't  look  so  awfully ! 
There  must  be  some  mistake.  You  can't  believe  that — that 
— oh  !  heaven  help  me  !" 

My  companion  did  not  speak ;  my  eyes  searched  his 
blanched  face  in  vain  for  comfort — a  wild  impulse  seized  me ; 
I  grasped  the  candle  in  my  hand,  and,  with  a  hasty  look 


RUTLEDQE.  481 

around  the  apartment,  hurried  to  the  bed  and  drew  aside 
the  curtains. 

I  did  not  swoon  or  cry  ;  I  did  not  even  drop  the  candle 
from  my  hand,  nor  loose  the  grasp  with  which  I  held  back 
the  curtains  ;  but,  with  glazed  eyes  and  freezing  veins,  gazed 
steadily  at  what  lay  before  me.  Pale  with  the  unmistaka 
ble  pallor  of  death,  one  arm  thrown  above  his  head,  the 
other  buried  in  his  bosom,  his  dark  tangled  curls  lying  dis 
tinct  against  the  pillow,  his  manly  limbs  rigid — a  crimson 
stream  that  had  stained  his  breast,  and  was  creeping  down 
upon  the  bed,  gave  awful  proof  that  Victor  and  I  had  in 
deed  parted  forever  —  that  my  wretched  lover  lay  dead 
before  me. 

Brought  so  suddenly  to  my  sight,  there  was  nothing  in 
that  moment  of  the  remorse  and  the  lingering  tenderness 
that  after  the  first  shock  nearly  deprived  me  of  reason  ;  it 
was  only  horror — staring,  ghastly  horror — at  the  sight  o^" 
his  dead  body — at  the  thought  of  his  lost  soul ;  the  words 
that  rang  in  my  head,  and  the  first  that  struggled  to  my 
lips  wore  :  "  God  have  mercy  on  his  soul !  God  have  mercy 
on  his  soul !"  Dead — without  a  prayer — dead — by  his  own 
hand  —  cast  out  forever  from  God's  mercy  —  a  wailing, 
damned,  lost  soul  through  all  eternity.  I  stood  as  if  turned 
to  stone ;  my  companion,  in  an  agony  of  grief  and  conster 
nation,  had  thrown  himself  on  his  knees  beside  the  bed  ; 
his  iron  fortitude  broken  down  before  this  awful  judgment 
that,  laying  bare  the  anguish  of  the  past,  had  intenvoven  it 
self  so  strangely  with  the  present ;  the  unerring  retribution 
that  had  worked  out  this  end  to  sins  so  long  ago  com 
mitted. 

But  no  sob  or  cry  came  from  my  lips  ;  no  tears  dimmed 
my  riveted  eyes.  I  heard  the  broken  words  that  burst 
from  him  as  in  a  dream,  and  neither  know  nor  felt  that  there 
was  anything  in  this  world  but  blank  horror — hopeless  con 
sternation — till  from  a  slight  movement  of  the  candle,  1 
caught  the  shine  of  a  trinket  that  the  unhappy  man  had 

21 


482  RUTLEDGE 

worn  around  his  neck.  Bending  forward,  I  saw  in  a  moment 
what  it  was.  A  little  ring  of  mine,  and  a  link  of  the  broken 
Bracelet,  worn  on  a  chain  next  his  heart  while  living,  now 
wet  with  blood,  was  lying  still  above  the  heart  that  beat  no 
more.  At  that  sight  a  passion  of  tears  came  to  my  relief. 
His  tender  and  devoted  love,  the  miserable  return  I  had 
made,  the  unkindness  of  our  parting,  my  shameful  injustice 
and  deceit,  the  cruelty  of  his  sufferings,  all  rushed  over  me 
and  shook  me  with  a  tempest  of  tears  and  sobs.  I  threw 
myself  beside  him  on  the  bed,  and  covered  his  cold  hand 
with  tears  and  caresses ;  wild  with  pain  and  remorse,  I  laid 
my  cheek  against  his  on  the  pillow,  and  implored  him  to 
forgive  me,  to  speak  to  me  but  once,  to  say  I  had  not  killed 
him ;  with  incoherent  passion  I  called  heaven  to  witness 
that  I  really  loved  him — that  I  would  have  been  true  to 
him — that  I  would  have  died  for  him — that  I  had  nothing 
else  to  live  for  or  to  love. 

It  was  long  before,  worn  out  by  excess  of  weeping,  I 
yielded  to  my  companion,  and  was  led  faint  and  almost 
unresisting  from  the  room.  With  a  few  words  of  pity,  he 
left  me  in  my  own  apartment,  reluctantly  turning  away  from 
me,  so  wretched  and  so  lonely.  But  I  shook  my  head  ;  I 
did  not  want  any  one,  I  had  rather  be  by  myself. 

"  No  one  can  do  you  much  good,  it  is  true,"  he  said  sadly. 
" God  help  you!"  and  he  left  me. 

I  stood  motionless  for  some  minutes  after  tne  door  closed 
upon  him.  Then,  stung  by  some  fresh  recollection  and  by 
the  added  terrors  of  solitude,  I  paced  rapidly  up  and  down 
the  room,  and  flinging  myself  on  my  knees  by  the  bedside, 
I  prayed  incoherently  and  passionately  for  Victor — for  my 
self — for  pardon  and  for  death.  I  could  not  endure  one 
thought  or  one  occupation  long :  before  I  rose  from  my 
knees  my  resolution  was  taken  ;  my  brain  would  have  given 
way  if  I  had  not  had  some  necessity  for  exertion,  some 
design  to  carry  out.  And  sttrange  and  sudden  as  my  deter, 
mination  was,  I  doubt  whether  I  could  have  done  anything 


ECTLEDC    E.  483 

wiser  and  better.  There  was  one  uncontrollable  longing 
uppermost — to  escape  from  this  place,  to  hide  myself  forever 
from  all  who  had  ever  known  me  here. 

Stealthily  and  hurriedly,  for  Kitty  was  sleeping  in  the 
dressing-room,  I  went  through  my  preparations.  They  were 
not  many ;  there  were  some  letters  to  be  burned  and  one 
to  be  written,  some  clothes  to  be  selected  and  made  up  into 
a  package,  a  trinket  to  be  clasped  round  Kitty's  arm,  and  a 
•coin  slipped  in  her  hand,  and  I  was  ready.  I  looked  at  my 
watch ;  it  was  half-past  three,  the  faint  grey  dawn  was  just 
streaking  the  eastern  sky,  I  must  go.  Where  should  I  put 
my  letter?  I.  sat  down  and  hurriedly  wrote  the  address, 
then  with  a  momentary  indecision,  the  first  that  had  marked 
my  rapid  movements  since  my  resolution  was  taken,  I 
opened  and  read  it  over : 

"  You  will  not  be  surprised  when  you  find  that  I  have 
gone  away.  You  can  understand,  if  you  will  think  a  mo 
ment  about  it,  and  try  to  realize  what  I  should  have  to 
endure  in  concealing  and  controlling  my  feelings,  that  it  is 
the  only  thing  I  could  do.  My  life  with  Mrs.  Churchill  has 
grown  so  intolerable  that  I  had  before  this  resolved  it  should 
not  continue.  And  now  is  the  best  time  to  do  what  at  any 
other  moment  would  be  painful,  but  which  at  this,  is  only 
a  relief.  Inquiries  and  investigations  as  to  where  I  go,  will 
be  just  so  many  cruelties ;  will  you  do  this  last  of  many 
kindnesses,  and  help  to  cover  my  retreat,  and  keep  them 
from  any  attempts  to  find  me  ?  It  would  kill  me  to  have 
to  face  any  of  them  now ;  will  you  not  trust  me  enough  to 
help  me  to  the  only  comfort  possible  to  me  now,  solitude 
and  rest  ?  You  are  ingenious,  you  can  divert  them  from  it, 
if  you  try ;  it  is  not  as  if  they  had  any  instincts  of  affection 
to  guide  them  in  finding  me  out.  You  need  not  let  thena 
know  that  I  did  not  project  the  pastime  of  last  nioht  to 
accomplish  a  premeditated  flight.  If  you  ever  had  -any  kind 
ness  for  me,  do  not  try -to  find  me  out  yotxrsolf,  do  not  let 


484  BOTLEDGE. 

them.  You  may  trust  me  when  I  promise  you  1  will  do 
nothing  rash,  nothing  that  you  would  not  approve  if  I  could 
tell  you.  I  promise  you  that  I  will  remember  my  religion 
and  my  womanhood,  and  spend  what  length  of  life  God 
sentences  me  to,  as  penitently,  patiently  and  reasonably  as 
He  will  grant  me  grace  to  do.  If  you  will  show  this 
proof  of  confidence  and  friendship,  you  will  never  repent 
it. 

"  God  knows,  you  have  little  reason  to  trust  in  me  :  but  I 
am  changed — I  am  much  changed — I  will  not  deceive  you 
now.  If  you  will  believe  in  me  this  once,  and  shield  me 
from  exposure,  and  leave  me  in  peace  where  I  may  choose 
to  go,  I  will  pledge  you  my  word  that  as  soon  as  I  shall 
ascertain  that  you  have  sailed  for  Europe,  I  will  write  you 
fully  and  truthfully  where  I  am,  and  what  I  intend  to  do, 
and  will  from  that  time  make  no  secret  of  my  place  of  abode 
and  my  plans. 

"  There  is  another  thing — but  I  need  not  ask  it  of  you. 
You,  for  your  own  sake  are  concerned  to  keep  this  cruel 
secret  that  I  have  so  long  been  hiding,  a  secret  still.  It 
passes  now  from  my  hands  to  yours.  Perhaps  I  should  be 
insensible  to  disgrace  and  ignominy ;  they  cannot  harm  him 
now :  but  oh !  shield  me  from  them,  save  his  memory  from 
shame.  Do  not  let  the  world  know  of  it  till  that  day  when 
the  secrets  of  all  hearts  shall  be  revealed ;  when  God  shall 
commit  all  judgment  to  His  Son,  who  is  more  merciful  than 
man — more  compassionate  and  more  just. 

"  You  have  helped  me  hitherto,  though  I  did  not  know 
whose  hand  was  smoothing  my  way ;  do  not  give  up  now, 
despairing.  Kitty  and  Stephen  will  He  faithful,  no  one  elso 
need  know  the  secrets  of  that  dreadful  room. 

"  I  am  not  so  selfish  as  you  think.  I  do  not  forget  that, 
you  are  only  less  miserable  than  I  am,  as  you  have  only 
grief  and  not  remorse  to  bear.  Heaven  send  you  the  peace 
I  have  no  right  to  ask  for  myself." 

I  folded  my  letter  quickly  and  sealed  it;  then  with  one 


RUTLEDGE.  485 

more  look  at  Kitty,  and  one  hurried  glance  around  the  fa. 
miliar  room,  I  put  out  the  candle,  took  the  package  from 
the  table  and  stole  out.  Where  should  I  put  my  letter  ?  It 
must  be  within  reach  of  no  other  hand  than  his ;  no  one 
must  know  that  I  had  written  to  him.  The  hall — no  words 
can  tell  its  gloom,  the  early  dawn  just  turning  its  darkness 
into  spectral  dimness.  If  inevitable  detection  had  been  the 
result,  I  could  not  have  helped  the  hurried,  incautious  steps 
with  which  I  crossed  it,  and  listened  at  Mr.  Rutledge's  door. 
Within  the  inner  room  I  heard  a  step  pacing  restlessly  up 
and  down,  but  no  other  sound.  He  was  awake,  then  ;  I 
stooped,  and  softly  tried  the  handle  of  the  door.  •  It  w^as 
locked ;  he  would  be  the  first  to  open  it ;  so  I  slipped  the 
letter  under  it,  and  springing  up,  fled  down  the  stairs  and 
through  the  hall,  without  a  look  behind,  with  no  thought 
but  that  of  escape,  no  fear  so  strong  as  that  of  detection.  I 
had  forgotten  everything  now  but  flight. 

It  was  Heaven's  mercy  and  nothing  else,  as  poor  Kitty 
would  have  said,  that  no  one  was  aroused  by  the  loud  sliding 
of  the  bolts,  that  required  all  my  strength  to  move  ;  I  hardly 
stopped  to  pull  the  heavy  door  to,  after  me  ;  I  should  not 
have  heard,  if  the  whole  household  had  been  in  pursuit,  for 
the  wild  throbbing  of  my  heart,  the  maddening  pressure  on 
my  brain,  the  choking  fear,  kept  me  insensible  to  sight  and 
sound.  I  flew  on,  through  the  shrubbery,  across  the  unfre 
quented,  dark  orchard ;  my  feet  tangled  in  the  rank,  wet 
grass  that  lay  in  the  field  beyond  it,  my  light  dress  tore  to 
fragments  in  the  thicket  that  bordered  the  western  extre 
mity  of  the  park ;  but  on,  till  the  thickest  of  the  forest 
sheltered  me  ;  then  sinking  exhausted  and  panting  upon  the 
ground,  I  hid  my  eyes  and  shuddered  at  the  terrors  I  was 
flying,  and  the  dismal  blank,  and  dread  uncertainty  of 
was  beyond. 


CHAPTER  XXXVm. 

*•  Vous  qui  pleurez,  yenez  a  ce  Dieu,  car  il  pleure. 

Vous  qui  soufirez,,  venez  a  lui,  car  il  guerit. 
*    Vons  qui  tremblez,  venez  a  lui,  car  il  sourit. 
Vous  qui  passez,  venez  &  lui,  car  il  demeure. 

ECKIT  AU  BAS  D'lTN  CEUCIFtt. 

THE  years  that  have  passed  bince  that  night,  have  been 
Jong  and  strange  years.  At  first  they  were  too  strange  and 
hopeless  and  blank  to  be  borne  without  repining ;  I  knew 
but  too  well  the  curse  that  turns  -life  into  a  burden  and  a 
dread,  and  makes  the  wretched  soul  cry  in  the  morning, 
"  would  God,  it  were  evening,"  and  in  the  evening,  "  would 
God,  it  were  morning !"  I  knew  what  it  was  to  dread  soli 
tude,  and  yet  to  shrink  from  the  reproach  of  any  human 
face  ;  to  hate  life,  and  yet  to  fear  death ;  to  know*  to  the 
fullest  the  terrors  of  remorse  and  the  bitterness  of  re 
pentance. 

I  have  passed  through  this  howling  wilderness,  passed 
through  it  once  and  -forever ;  it  lies  black  and  horrible  be- 
bind  me ;  when  I  look  back,  I  cross  myself  and  murmur  a 
prayer  ;  but  beyond — thank  God's  good  grace — lies  a  plain 
path ;  over  it  shines  the  steady  star  of  faith,  the  cold,  clear 
light  of  duty  fills  the  sky,  the  still  air  breathes  peace ;  the 
promise  is  faint  of  the  life  that  now  is,  but  of  that  which  is 
to  come,  of  the  bliss  that  never  tires,  the  joy  that  never 
ceases,  the  majesty  of  the  Glory  that  fills  the  heaven  beyond 
the  dividing  limit  of  that  horizon,  I  can  dream  and  hope, 
till  the  dream  fills  my  soul  to  satisfaction,  and  the  hope 
grows  strong  as  life  itself. 

The  daily  Routine  of  my  life  is  easily  described,  and  the 
occupations  that  served  to  soothe  and  sustain  me^  will  not 


ETTTLEDGE.  48? 

«ake  many  words  to  paint.  The  refuge  I  had  sought  upon 
my  flight  from  Rutledge,  was  not  distant ;  Mj*.  Shenstoue's 
compassion  was  the  first  I  asked  ;  he  heard,  fresh  from  its 
occurrence,  the  awful  story  of  Victor's  death,  the  not  less 
awful  story  of  his  life.  I  needed  no  truer  friend  than  he  ; 
and  though  it  opened  anew  the  recollection  of  his  own  early 
trial,  I  did  not  suffer  from  the  association  it  awoke ;  he  was 
only  tenderer  and  kinder. ' 

Mr.  Rutledge  regarded  my  request.  Whether  he  sm;- 
pected  my  retreat  or  not,  I  could  not  tell,  but  in  the  confu 
sion  and  excitement  that  ensued  upon  the  discovery  of  my 
flight,  I  have  reason  to  believe  he  influenced  the  direction  of 
the  search  that  was  instituted,  and  did  not  thwart  the  gene 
ral  idea,  that  I  had  fled  to  the  city  to  rejoin  Victor,  who, 
it  was  soon  learned,  had  not  sailed  when  he  had  appointed. 
All  was  mystery  and  confusion,  but  this  idea  saved  me  from 
pursuit  here,  and  gave  something  for  suspicion  to  fasten  and 
feed  upon,  and  out  of  which  to  build  up  an -effigy,  to  receive 
the  maledictions  and  reproaches  of  the  world.  All  this  was 
less  than  indifferent  to  me ;  while  they  were  searching  for 
me  with  venom  and  wrath,  and  bemoaning  my  iniquities 
with  dainty  horror,  and  execrating  my  hypocrisy,  and  set 
tling  my  fate,  and  clearing  themselves  forever  of  any  further 
part  or  lot  in  me,  I  was  much  nearer  the  other  world  than 
this  ;  so  near  indeed,  that  when  after  long  wrecks  of  hover 
ing  between  this  and  the  unseen,  I  gradually  awoke  to  the 
knowledge  that  I  was  still  to  stay  in  life,  I  had*  so  far  lost 
my  interest  in  it,  that  it  gave  me  hardly  a  moment's  concern 
to  find  that  Mrs.  Churchill  had  discovered  my  place  of  re 
treat,  and  had  written  in  almost  insulting  language  to  Mr. 
Shenstone,  forbidding  my  return  to  her,  and  casting  me  off 
forever.  Mr.  Shenstone  seemed  sadly  distressed  to  commu 
nicate  this  to  me ;  the  languid  smile  with  which  I  received 
it,  reassured  him. 

"  She  could  not  have  done  me  a  greater  favor,  sir ;  she 
has  saved  me  the  trouble  of  saying  that  I  would  not 


4:88  RUTLEDGE. 

return  to  her,  and  she  knew  it  very  well.  She  is  glal  to  ba 
rid  of  me,  and  hurried  to  spare  her  dignity  the  rebuff  that 
she  knew  it  would  receive  as  soon  as  I  was  able  to  put  pen 
to  paper." 

But  there  was  a  harder  task  to  perform ;  my  promise  to 
Mr.  Rutledge  was  yet  unfulfilled.  I  understood  from  Mr, 
Shenstone  that  he  had  sailed  for  Havre  a  fortnight  after  I 
had  left  Rutledge,  and  I  dared  no  longer  delay  my  promised 
communication  to  him.  A  very  brief  and  simple  letter  told 
him  all  that  was  necessary.  In  the  course  of  the  winter 
there  came  an  answer  to  it,  short  but  kind,  with  nothing 
wanting  in  consideration  and  interest,  characteristic  and 
manly,  yet  with  a  shade  of  formality  and  restraint,  differ 
ing  from  all  phases  of  our  former  intercourse ;  ever  so  slight 
a  shade,  it  is  true,  but  it  made  me  put  this  his  last  letter 
away,  with  the  same  feeling  that  I  think  I  should  have  had, 
if  I  had  just  turned  away  from  my  last  look  at  him  in  his 
coffin.  He  was  dead  to  me,  at  least. 

Occasional  letters,  indeed,  came  from  him  to  Mr.  Sheii- 
elone,  generally  with  some  mention  of  my  name ;  Mr.  Shen 
stone  always  showed  them  to  me  ;  they  brought  back  old 
tunes,  and  made  me  restless  and  vaguely  sad  for  a  day  or 
two,  then  the  dead  feeling  would  come  back,  and  all  would 
be  the  same  as  before.  As  time  wore  on,  the  letters  grew 
almost  imperceptibly  shorter  and  less  explicit;  he  was 
travelling — he  was  here — at  such  a  time  he  should  be  there 
— such  places  pleased  him — such  spots  were  changed  since 
his  former  visits ;  then  would  follow  some  general  direc 
tions  about  the  farm — remembrances  to  Mrs.  Arnold  and  to 
me — kind  inquiries  into  Mr.  Shenstone's  own  health — re 
newed  assurances  of  friendship — and  so  the  letter  would 
end. 

Of  my  aunt's  family  I  rarely  heard.  They  went  abroad 
the  year  after  we  parted ;  I  saw  occasionally  by  the  papers 
their  residence  at  Paris,  or  their  journeying  in  Italy;  and 
Grace's  marriage  with  a  Frenchman  of  good  family  came  to 


K  U  T  L  E  D  G  T,  489 

my  knowledge  through  the  same  means.  Why  Josephine 
still  lingered  unmarried  I  could  only  conjecture.  Phil  Ar- 
buthnot  returned  to  America  after  spending  a  year  with 
them  in  Paris,  and  I  believe  has  never  rejoined  them. 

So  much  for  these  once  prominent  participators  in  my  in 
terest,  and  now  of  myself.  In  the  home  I  had  chosen  I 
was  soon  as  necessary  as  I  was  occupied ;  Mrs.  Arnold  saw 
life  and  usefulness  receding  from  her  now  with  less  pain, 
that  she  saw  one  younger  and  stronger,  able  to  take  up  the 
duties  that  she  had  reluctantly  laid  down.  There  was  no 
chance  for  time  to  hang  heavy  on  my  hands ;  besides  the 
occupations  of  the  house,  there  were  unnumbered  calls  upon 
my  energies  in  the  parish.  Mr.  Shenstone  was  no  longer 
young,  almost  an  old  man  now,  and  though  his  energy 
never  flagged,  his  strength  did,  and  I  found  many  ways  of 
relieving  him,  and  inducing  him  to  save  himself  and  depend 
on  me.  I  have  no  doubt  he  saw  it  was  the  kindest  thing 
he  could  do  for  me,  and  so  the  more  willingly  yielded  the 
duties  to  me.  ]Sfo  one  that  sets  himself  or  herself  earnestly 
at  work,  with  a  sincere  desire  to  do  right,  and  to  atone  for 
the  past,  but  will,  sooner  or  later,  feel  the  good  effect  of 
such  effort ;  his  languor  will  yield  before  the  invigorating 
glow  of  exercise,  his  nerves  will  regain  the  tone  they  had 
lost,  his  pulse  will  beat  with  something  of  its  old  vigor ;  he 
wih1,  though  never  again  the  same  man,  be  once  more  a  man, 
be  free  from  the  corroding  melancholy  that  threatened  to  be 
his  rum,  and  be  ready  to  look  on  life  with  steadier,  wiser 
eyes  than  in  his  youth.  Such  reward  work  brings ;  no 
matter  how  plain  and  coarse  and  unattractive  the  work 
maybe,  no  matter  if,  in  itself,  it  has  no  interest  and  no 
charm,  the  will,  the  duty,  the  spirit  in  which  it  is  done, 
will  give  it  its  interest  and  its  charm,  and  will  bring  it  its 
certain  reward.  You,th  can  hardly  see  this,  misery  cannot  at 
first  acknowledge  it,  but  none  ever  faithfully  and  patiently 
tried  it,  without  finding  the  truth  of  it. 

There  is  a  lonely  grave  in  the  very  hear\  of  the  pine  ftw 

2J* 


4:90  EUTLEDGE. 

est,  unmarked  by  cross  or  stone,  above  which  no  prayers 
but  mine  have  ever  been  said,  which  the  dark  moss  covers 
thickly,  and  around  which  the  trees  sound  their  everlasting 
dirge.  I  have  not  learned  to  be  tranquil  there  ;  years  more 
of  faith  and  prayer  may  take  the  sting  out  of  that  sorrow, 
and  bring  me  to  leave  it  utterly  in  His  high  hand  wllo  seeth 
not  as  man  seeth.  If  prayer  could  avail,  after  the  grave 
had  shut  her  mouth  upon  any  of  the  children  of  men,  if 
fast  ar4  vigil,  tears  and  penance,  could  mitigate  the  wrath 
decreed  against  them,  I  might  hope,  I  might  stand  by  that 
desolate  mound  with  a  less  despairing  heart.  I  have  tried 
to  realize  that  God's  ways  are  not  as  our  ways,  that  no 
thing  is  impossible  with  him,  that  His  mercy  is  as  incompre- 
nensible  as  is  His  power ;  and  that  our  puny  prayers,  how 
ever  they  may  chasten  and  purify  ourselves,  are  not  needed, 
and  not  efficient  in  influencing  His  sentence  on  our  brothers' 
souls. 

There  is  enough  to  do  among  the  living.  "Let  tne  dead 
Past  bury  its  dead."  There  are  souls  yet  unsentenced  to 
be  prayed  for  and  to  be  gained,  there  arc  children  to  be 
brought  to  baptism  and  to  be  led  aright,  there  are  dark 
Iiomes  of  poverty  and  sin  to  be  invaded  with  the  light  of 
truth  and  love ;  there  is  doubt  to  be  Avon  to  faith,  ignorance 
to  be  enlightened,  sluggish  indolence  to  be  roused,  God's 
church  to  work  for,  His  honor  to  be  extended,  our  most 
holy  faith  to  be  spread  and  reverenced ;  there  is  no  need  to 
languish  for  want  of  work,  or  to  waste  tears  and  prayers 
upon  that  which  is  already  in  the  hands  of  Almighty  Love 
and  Almighty  Power. 

Yes  ;  I  believe  I  was,  through  it  all,  happier  than  Mrs. 
Churchill,  haggard  and  worn  in  a  service  whose  nominal 
wages  are  pleasure  and  ease  ;  and  than  Josephine,  wasting 
her  youth  in  the  pursuit  of  an  ambition  that  had  rewarded 
her  as  yet  by  nothing  but  vanity  and  vexation  of  spirit.  A 
gay  hotel  in  Pans,  and  a  secluded  country  parsonage — on 
the  one  hand  wealth,  the  pleasures  of  society,  the  adiwira- 


R  U  T  L  E  D  G  E  .  491 

tion  of  the  world,  on  the  other  seclusion,  the  annihilation 
of  every  hope  that  had  its  root  only  in  this  earth,  the  love 
only  of  the  poor,  the  aged  and  the  suffering,  yet  I  would 
not  have  exchanged  their  gaiety  for  my  peace,  their  pros 
perity  for  iny  adversity. 

"What  should  we  do  without  you,  child?"  said  Mr. 
Shenstone,  kindly,  one  day  as  I  was  leaving  him.  "  What 
should  we  do  without  these  young  eyes  and  this  young 
zeal  ?  I  am  afraid  the  village  would  begin  to  tire  of  its  old 
pastor,  and  to  fret  about  his  old  ways  and  his  new  negli 
gences,  if  we  had  not  this  fresh  enthusiast  to  throw  herself 
into  the  breach,  and  to  save  both  flock  and  pastor  from  dis 
couragement  and  disgust.  You  have  assimilated  yourself 
strangely  to  those  you  have  fallen  among.  Tell  me  truly, 
my  dear  child,  are  you  never  weary  of  this  dull  life — never 
tired  of  the  companionship  of  two  solitary,  sad  people,  old 
and  spiritless  ?  We  are  apt  to  forget — you  cheer  and  com 
fort  us — we  must  depress  and  sadden  you." 

"  You  ?  Oh,  Mr.  Shenstone  !  You  know  to  whom  it  i8 
I  owe  it  that  I  have  conquered  depression  and  sadness. 
You  have  done  everything  for  me  ;  may  I  do  nothing  for 
you  ?  It  is  little  enough,  surely,  but  it  is  my  greatest 
pleasure." 

"  If  it  is — then  go,"  he  said,  with  a  sad  smile  on  his 
wan,  furrowed  face.  "  Go  and  fulfill  the  duties  that  God 
has  taken  out  of  my  hands,  and  I  will  try  to  be  patient  and 
stay  at  home  in  idleness.  I  will  try  to  remember, 

'  They  also  serve  who  only  stand  and  wait.' 

But  God  knows,  it  is  the  hardest  kind  of  service !" 

Every  day  lately  had  been  adding  to  his  languor ;  1 
watched  with  anxious  foreboding  his  slow  step  and  altered 
tone.  It  was  the  twenty-fourth  of  December,  and  I  knew 
that  the  contrast  of  his  present  inactivity  at  this  holy  season, 
to  former  diligence,  must  be  a  keen  trial  to  him  with  his 
stern  rules  of  dutv.  I  left  the  house  witu  a  sigh,  and  went 


492  BU1LERGE. 

out  into  the  clear,  still  air  of  the  winter  afternoon,  with  the 
energy  of  youth  and  earnestness  in  my  veins,  and  thought, 
wonderingly,  of  the  different  grades  of  trials,  the  "anguish 
of  all  sizes  "  that  God's  elect  must  pass  through, 

"  Till  every  pulse  beat  true  to  airs  divine.' 

li  must  be  hard,  indeed,  to  "  stand  and  wait,"  to  feel  that 
energy  and  strength  are  going  before  life  goes,  and  that 
there  is  nothing  left  to  do,  only  to  endure.  Such  a  trial,  it 
seemed  to  me,  would  be  the  worst  of  all :  as  long  as  there  is 
work  there  is  a  panacea,  but  take  away  that,  and  the  burden 
grows  intolerable.  God  spare  me  that !  And  I  hurried  on 
through  my  many  duties  with  double  thankfulness  that  they 
were  so  many. 

The  short  winter  afternoon  was  all  too  short  for  them — 
it  was  almost  sundowrn  when  I  started  to  cross  the  common 
on  my  return  from  a  distant  cottage.  There  was  but  one 
thing  more  to  do  to-night ;  the  school-children  wrere  waiting 
for  me  to  go  into  the  church  and  practice  their  Christmas- 
hymn  with  them,  and  it  wras  late  already,  so  I  quickened  my 
pace.  I  found  my  young  pupils  waiting  for  me  around  the 
gate  of  the  churchyard  ;  they  hailed  me  with  acclamations, 
and  clustering  round  my  skirts,  followed  me  into  the  church. 
They  Avere  too  well  taught  to  continue  their  chattering 
there,  even  if  they  had  been  unrestrained  by  my  presence, 
but  I  could  not  but  believe  the  scene  must  have  struck 
them  with  some  reverence,  thoughtless  and  trifling  though 
too  many  of  them  were.  The  lowering  sun  streamed  in 
through  the  stained  glass  of  the  western  windows,  and  lit 
up  gorgeously  the  sombre  church,  illuminating  the  joyful 
Christmas  words  above  the  altar,  touching  cross  and 
star  and  tablet  with  soft  light,  and  laying  rich  and  warm 
upon  the  glossy  wreaths  that  were  twined  round  font  and 
chancel,  desk  and  pillar.  Coming  from  the  cold  air  and 
wintry  landscape,  into  such  a  mellow,  warm,  green  sanctu 
ary,  where  there  seemed  no  winter  and  no  chill.  I  could 


K  U  T  L  K  D  G   F  .  493 

inderstand  tlve  feeling  that  checked  the  children's  mirth  so 
suddenly,  and  made  them  look  wistfully  and  silently  around ; 
and  when  their  sweet,  young  voices  followed  mine  in  the 
Christmas-hymn,  and  when  the  organ  yielded  its  full 
tones  to  my  touch,  arch  and  rafter,  pavement  and  aisle 
seemed  to  stretch  away  into  infinity  ;  the  Eght  that  filled 
the  church  was  the  glory  of  heaven ;  the  sweet  music, 
the  voices  of  the  angels;  and  time  and  earth  seemed  to 
fade  and  recede,  and  floating  down  that  path  of  glory,  I 
could  almost  have  touched  the  open  gates  of  heaven — 
almost  have  mingled  in  the  white-robed  throng  within. 
The  chains  of  sin  and  sense  fall  off — the  sounds  of  warfare 
die  away — the  terrors  of  the  conflict  with  the  hosts  of  hell 
are  all  forgotten ;  if  one's  soul  could  follow  in  the  wake 
of  one's  longing  at  such  a  moment  as  this,  death  would 
indeed  be  conquered — the  king  of  terrors  be  cheated  of  his 
prey. 

The  glory  had  faded  from  the  west,  and  dullness  and 
gloom  had  crept  into  the  church  before  the  young  choir  dis 
persed.  It  seemed  as  if  the  very  spirit  of  music  had 
possessed  the  children ;  hymn  after  hymn,  anthem  and 
carol,  and  never  tired  or  flagging.  As  at  last  I  rose  to  go> 
and  bent  forward  to  shut  the  organ,  one  of  them  whispered 
eagerly : 

"  There's  somebody  been  below  there  in  the  chwch  !  I 
hear  steps  going  down  the  aisle  ;  and  hark  !  The  door  just 
opened  and  shut  again." 

"  N"o  matter,"  I  said,  a  little  startled.  "  Some  one 
has  heard  the  music,  and  come  in  to  listen.  Follow  me 
quietly,  children  :  it  is  almost  dark ;  we  have  stayed  too 
late." 

The  little  group  separated  at  the  church  door ;  bidding 
them  good-night,  and  taking  by  the  hand  the  child  whose 
way  lay  partly  with  mine  going  home,  I  took  the  path 
toward  the  village.  It  gave  me,  I  confess,  a  little  uneasi 
ness  to  see  how  faint  the  daylight  was,  and  the  conjecture  • 


4:94  BUTLEDGli. 

who  could  have  been  in  the  church  s  long  and  so  silent^ 
recurred  again  and  again  uncomfortably.  It  was  too  late  to 
trust  little  Rosy  to  go  home  alone  ,  so,  though  it  took  me  a 
full  half  mile  beyond  my  own  road,  I  kept  on  with  her  ;  and 
beguiling  her  with  a  Christmas  story  as  we  went,  soon  suc 
ceeded  in  forgetting  foolish  fears,  malgre  the  twilignt  and 
the  lonesome  road.  At  last  we  reached  the  little  (i>;ate  01 
Rosy's  home,  and  stooping  to  kis?  ner  as  I  left  her  at  ;t,  J 
was  turning  away,  when  a  carriage  drove  quickly  past 
toward  Brandon.  It  was  a  strange  carriage,  and  it  gave  me 
a  sort  of  start ;  I  could  not  quite  recover  my  composure  for 
some  minutes  ;  but  then  strangers  came  so  seldom  through 
the  village  at  this  season,  it  was  not  very  wonderful  after  all 
that  I  had  been  startled.  However,  I  reflected,  it  was  not 
improbably  some  one  on  the  way  from  northward,  detained 
by  the  freezing  of  the  river,  and  hurrying  on  to  catch  the 
evening  train  from  Brandon ;  and  with  that,  dismissed  the 
subject  from  my  mind. 

When  I  reached  home,  I  hurried  into  the  study,  anxious 
to  explain  to  Mr.  Shenstone  the  cause  of  my  long  absence, 
and  to  make  amends  for  it  by  enlivening  his  evening.  I 
found  him  alone ;  Mrs.  Arnold  had  not  been  able  to  leave 
her  room  for  several  days,  and  the  study  was  in  darkness, 
and  tea  had  not  been  thought  of. 

"  Why,  how  dismal  you  look,  sir !"  I  exclaimed,  as  I 
came  in.  "  I  beg  you  will  excuse  my  staying  till  this  hour ; 
but  the  children  were  so  in  love  with  their  own  voices,  that 
I  could  not  get  them  away ;  and  that  little  gipsy  of  a  Rosy 
had  to  be  escorted  all  the  way  home.  Kitty  should  have 
brought  you  lights,  sir ;  shall  I  ring  ?" 

"  No,  not  just  yet ;  I  am  in  no  hurry.  Sit  down  ;  are 
you  not  tired  ?  I  have  wondered  at  your  being  so  late. 
You  have  missed  a  visitor." 

"  A  visitor  ?     No  !     Why,  who  ?" 

"  One  whom  I  little  expected  to  see,  and  much  less 
expected  to  have  had  so  short  a  visit  from.  I  confess  it  has 


B  U  T  L  K  D  G  E  .  4.95 

quite  startled  and  unsettled  me,  seeing  him  so  unexpectedly 
and  for  such  a  moment.  But  he  could  not  stay  over  night, 
and  the  Brandon  train  leaves  at  half-past  six,  he  says.  He 
was  sorry  you  were  away." 

"  Mr.  Rutledge  has  been  here  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  And  gone  ?»» 

"  And  gone.*' 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

"  Be  not  amazed  at  life.    'Tis  still 

The  mode  of  God  with  his  elect, 
Their  hopes  exactly  to  fulfill, 
In  times  and  ways  they  least  expect." 

COVENTRY  PATAIOKL', 

THE  winter  passed  heavily  away  :  no  change  for  the  bet 
ter  relieved  our  fears  for  Mr.  Shenstone,  and,  before  spring, 
poor  Mrs.  Arnold  died,  and  left  me  alone  with  the  burden 
of  care  and  dread.  All  that  time  is  like  a  sad,  slow  dream ; 
I  cannot  tell  the  days  apart  as  I  look  back  upon  them — the 
one  fear  that  grew  daily  colored  all  events  alike.  It  was 
like  no  other  approaching  death  that  I  had  ever  seen.  I 
knew  he  was  longing  for  his  release  ;  but  what  would  ^e  re 
lease  to  him  would  be  my  sentence  of  banishment  —  my 
separation  from  the  only  friend  I  had,  the  severing  of  the 
only  tie  I  knew. 

Still  it  seemed  vague  and  far  off,  and  the  warm  spring 
days  came  slowly  on,  and  crept  into  June,  before  either  he 
or  I  knew  how  very  few  he  had  yet  tt)  live.  The  doctor 
had  at  last  to  tell  me  what  every  one  else  knew — that  Mr. 
Shenstone  could  not  live  a  week.  I  do  not  think  that  he 
himself,  though  knowing  well  that  the  time  was  at  hand,  had 


496  RUTLEDGK. 

been  aware  how  very  near  it  was.  I  knew  it  was  not  too 
near  for  his  desires ;  but  one  earthly  care  vexed  the  holy 
calm  of  his  death-bed. 

"  I  must  see  Arthur  before  I  die.  Write  to  him  again, 
and  beg  him  to  come  quickly.  He  could  not  have  realized 
what  I  meant  him  to  understand  when  you  wrote  last,  or  he 
would  have  been  here  before." 

I  wrote  again  urgently,  and  told  him  in  the  plainest  words 
what  the  necessity  for  his  coming  was,  and  how  anxiously 
Mr.  Shenstone  desired  an  interview  before  he  died  ;  that  it 
was  the  one  ungratified  wish  that  disturbed  his  last  mo 
ments  ;  the  letter  was  hurriedly  dispatched,  and  yet  day 
after  day  passed  and  no  answer  came.  It  was  cruel  to  see 
the  momentary  eagerness  with  which  the  dying  man's  eye 
lighted  up  at  each  new  sound  without,  and  to  hear  the  faint 
sigh  with  which  he  sank  back  at  the  fresh  disappointment. 

I  had  my  own  interpretation  of  this  silence  ;  but  I  dared 
not  tell  him.  Through  the  winter  his  letters  had  been  irre 
gular  ;  it  was  now  some  weeks  since  any  had  come  ;  I  did  not 
feel  a  doubt  but  that  he  had  gone  abroad  again,  and,  in  the 
hurry  of  departure,  had  omitted  to  write.  Something  that 
Mrs.  Fielding  (the  pretty  Janet  Emerson,  married  and  living 
at  New  Orleans,  but  on  a  visit  to  her  old  home,  who  had 
found  me  out  and  come  to  see  me  a  month  or  so  before)  had 
said,  confirmed  my  suspicions. 

"  I  heard  from  Paris  a  week  or  so  ago,"  she  said,  "  that 
your  cousin,  Miss  Churchill,  and  Mr.  Kutledge  are  really  to 
be  married.  Upon  my  word,  you  must  excuse  me ;  but  it 
is  a  shame.  I  grudge  him  to  her.  Ah  !  mechanic,  if  yon 
had  made  the  proper  use  of  that  evening  in  the  library  thai 
I  gave  you,  she  would  "not  have  had  him." 

I  had  not  told  Mr.  Shenstone  this  ;  nor  dared  I  tell  him 
that  there  was  hardly  a  hope  that  his  friend  was  still  in 
America.  A  week  had  elapsed  since  my  letter  had  been 
sect ;  the  end  was  surely  approaching — we  could  not  shut 
our  eyes  to  that.  That  morning,  Mr.  Shenstone  had,  with 


B  U  T  L  E  1    G  E.  497 

great  pain  and  difficulty,  refusing  my  assistance,  himself 
written  a  few  lines  to  Mr.  Rutleclge,  and,  sealing  it,  had 
committed  it  to  my  hands,  charging  me  to  deliver  it  to  hini 
as  soon  as  he  should  come.  From  the  moment  that  that 
was  done,  he  had  put  off  all  care,  and  given  himself  wholly 
up  to  the  exercises  .of  religion  and  the  preparations  for 
death.  Of  my  future  he  had  never  spoken  much.  God 
would  direct  my  lot  mercifully,  he  was  sure  ;  he  left  me,  his 
sole  earthly  care,  with  faith,  to  God's  protection.  He  de 
sired  that  for  the  present  I  should  remain,  with  the  two  ser 
vants,  in  the  house,  till  some  other  home  presented,  or  till  the 
parsonage  was  required  for  his  successor. 

It  was  a  holy,  religious  day ;  such  peace  as  soothed  the 
last  hours  of  his  life  told  well  for  the  service  in  which  he 
had  spent  it.  It  was  not  like  death — it  was  like  the  coming 
of  a  blessing  that  had  been  long  prayed  for.  We  had  with 
him  received  the  sacrament,  and  heard  the  faint  words  that 
told  his  triumph  and  his  hope,  and  stood  waiting  around 
him,  almost  following  him  to  the  courts  of  heaven,  almost 
forgetting  with  him,  the  world  in  which  our  path  still  lay ; 
when  through  the  window,  open  to  the  sunset  of  a  June 
evening,  there  came  the  sound  of  a  hurried  arrival. 

"  It  is  Arthur,"  murmured  the  dying  man,  faintly,  turning 
his  eyes  on  me.  "  Go  and  bring  him  to  me." 

I  hurried  to  the  door  and  down  the  "path.  "  You  have 
not  a  moment  to  lose,"  I  said,  without  a  word  of  prepara 
tion  or  salutation.  "  He  can  hardly  live  an  hour,  and  he 
desires  to  see  you." 

"  Good  heaven !     Has  it  indeed  come  to  that !"  he  ex 
claimed,  following  me  up  the  stairs.     I  left  him  at  the  door  ; 
for  half  an   hour  they  were  alone  together,  then  Mr.  Rut- 
ledge  opened  the  door  and  called  me  hastily  to  come  in.     I  • 
obeyed  ;  but  only  in  time  to  receive  the  last  blessing  of  the 
dying  saint,  and,  kneeling  in  unspeakable  sorrow  by  his  bed 
side,  to  feel  his  hand  rest  tenderly  on  my  head,  with  a  si 
lent  benediction,  even  after  his  departing  soul  had  carried 


BDTLEDGE. 

its  supplication  and  its  intercession  to  the  very  presence  of 
the  Divine  Benefactor. 

Two  days  had  passed  since  the  funeral ;  there  was  no 
more  anxiety  to  engross,  no  more  watching  to  employ  me  ; 
the  blank  idleness  that  is  the  earliest  pain  after  a  great  loss, 
was  just  then  creeping  over  me  with  its  worst  power. 
There  was  nothing  more  to  do — the  house  was  settled  to  its 
ordinary  ways,  and  I  sat  alone  in  my  little  room  in  the 
deepening  twilight,  with  a  sadder  sense  of  my  loneliness  than 
I  had  had  before.  It  was  not  time  yet  for  me  to  think  oi 
what  was  to  become  of  me ;  I  had  a  right  to  rest  a  little  be 
fore  I  faced  any  greater  change,  yet  harassing  thoughts  of 
my  homelessness  and  desolation  crowded  on  me  to  make  my 
present  trial  heavier.  There  was  no  one  on  earth  I  had  a 
right  to  call  my  friend,  save  only  the  humble  ones  who 
could  offer  me  nothing  but  gratitude  and  affection,  and  who 
were  as  unable  to  direct  and  help  me,  as  I  was  to  direct  and 
help  myself.  It  was  long  before  I  could  summon  courage 
enough  to  say  that  I  must  decide  upon  some  change,  and  to 
resolve  that  it  must  be  done  now.  There  was  no  right  and 
no  propriety  in  staying  longer  here  than  till  I  hid  arranged 
some  other  home  ;  indeed  for  some  reasons  this  was  the  last, 
roof  that  I  should  stay  under  now.  But  my  resolves  came 
quick  when  they  did  come — I  saw  that  the  sooner  I  began 
my  new  life  the  better ;  it  would  be  like  another  death  if  I 
waited  till  a  few  months  hence  before  I  left  this  dear  home  • 
now,  in  this  time  of  change  and  restlessness,  I  could  besv 
bear  the  pain.  To-morrow,  I  had  resolved,  I  would  go  out 
and  try  to  find  some  cottage  or  some  rooms,  where,  with 
Kitty  to  attend  me,  I  could  make  the  best  of  my  slender 
fortune,  and  remain  quietly  at  least  for  the  present,  when  a 
knock  at  the  door  aroused  me.  The  servant  said  :  "  Mr. 
Rutledge  is  in  the  study,  Miss,  and  desires  to  see  you  for  i 
tew  moments." 

"  Ask  him  to  excuse  me  to-night,"  I  began ;  but  no,  it 
was  as  easy  now  as  it  would  ever  be,  so  telling  the  woman 


RTTTLEDGE.  4-99 

to  say  I  would  be  down  in  a  moment,  I  shut  the  door  and 
tried  to  prepare  myself.  There  was  a  good  deal  to  help 
me  to  be  calm ;  some  pride  and  some  humility — a  prayer — 
suvd  the  remembrance  of  my  sorrow — and  the  gulf  that  lay 
between  the  present  and  the  past ;  and  I  went  downstairs 
quite  self-possessed  and  quiet. 

The  study  was  so  dusky  I  could  hardly  see  my  visitor's  face 
as  he  rose  to  meet  me.  I  longed  to  keep  the  dusk,  but  said : 

"  Do  you  mind  twilight,  sir  ?  My  head  aches  a  little,  but 
if  you  prefer  it,  I  will  send  for  candles." 

"  Not  at  all,"  he  said,  sitting  down  opposite  me  in  the 
window.  "  I  am  sorry  to  hear  you  are  not  well.  Kitty 
told  me,  when  she  admitted  me,  that  it  was  doubtful 
whether  you  could  come  down  ;  but  I  fancied  you  would 
not  have  the  least  hesitation  in  declining  to  see  me  if  you 
were  not  able." 

"  I  did  think,  sir,  when  you  were  first  announced,  that  I 
would  beg  you  to  excuse  me ;  but  I  remembered  that  pos 
sibly  you  might  be  returning  to  the  city  to-morrow,  and 
this  might  be  my  last  chance  of  seeing  you,  so  I  made  an 
effort  to  come  down." 

There  was  a  moment's  pause,  which  I  broke  by  saying : 

"I  wanted  to  see  you,  sir,  about  the  change  in  my  plans, 
which,  as  Mr.  Shenstone's  nearest  friend,  you  would,  per 
haps,  be  kind  enough  to  sanction." 

"  It  was  about  that  that  I  came  this  evening." 

"  You  are  very  kind,  sir,  and  so  I  may  go  at  once  to  the 
subject.  You  know,  of  course,  of  Mr.  Shenstone's  legacy ; 
that,  with  my  own  property,  is  sufficient  to  provide  very 
comfortably  for  Kitty  and  myself.  I  propose  making  my 
arrangements  to  leave  here  within  a  fortnight,  keeping 
Kitty  with  me  ;  but  for  the  other  servant,  Mary,  I  would 
ask  your  advice.  She  has  been  some  time  in  the  family 
and  is  a  faithful  person.  "Would  it  be  best  to  leave  her  in 
the  house  till  it  is  otherwise  occupied,  or  to  provide  a  place 
for  her,  and  close  the  house  ?  You  know,  as  I  shall  hav« 


500  BUT  LEDGE. 

the  packing  up  and  settling  of  all  at  the  last,  it  is  necessary 
I  should  know  your  wishes." 

"  I  do  not  quite  comprehend.  I  had  understood  from 
Mr.  Shenstone  that  it  was  his  wish  that  you  should  re 
main  for  the  present  here.  Did  he  not  express  the  same  to 
you  ?» 

"  He  did,  sir,  but  it  was  a  mistaken  kindness.  I  had 
lather  go  now;  and  I  do  not  think  there  can  be  any  wrong 
in  disregarding  a  request  which  he  only  meant  as  an  indul 
gence  ^nd  a  respite,  and  would  not  have  insisted  on  if  he 
had  knt,,/n  my  reasons." 

"  Can  I  know  them  ?" 

"  They  are  so  many,  sir,  it  would  not  be  worth  whne  to 
trouble  you." 

"  Am  I  wrong  when  I  fancy  that  one  is,  that  the  house 
belongs  to  one  from  whom  you  would  not  endure  an  obli 
gation  ?" 

"  You  put  it  too  harshly,  sir ;  but  in  truth  I  do  not  like 
obligations." 

"  You  would  incur  none,  then,  let  me  assure  you,  by  re 
maining  here.  The  house  will  be  unoccupied ;  I  should  be 
glad  to  have  some  one  in  it,  and  there  is,  I  fear,  little 
chance  of  having  the  parish  permanently  suited  with  a 
clergyman  before  fall,  and  even  after  that,  there  is  no  ne 
cessity  of  retaining  this  as  a  parsonage ;  there  are  one  or 
two  houses  nearer  the  church,  which  would,  indeed,  be 
more  convenient." 

"  Thank  you,  sir,  but  it  will  be  impossible.  You  do  not 
estimate  the  difficulties.  I  cannot  stay  here :  and  perhaps 
you  will  be  kind  enough  to  tell  me  what  to  do  about  the 
arrangement  of  the  books.  Shall  they  be  packed,  or  are 
they  to  remain  on  the  shelves  ?  And  here,  sir,  is  the  key 
of  the  private  drawers  in  that  book-case,  that  -I  was  to  give 
you  when  you  came.'* 

My  voice  faltered  as  I  delivered  my  kind  friend's  last 
message.  There  was  a  long  pause,  then  Mr,  Rutledge  said  t 


fiUTLEDGE.  501 

"  These  things  are  very  trying  to  you  now ;  there  ia  no 
need  that  you  should  distress  yourself  by  attending  to  them 
at  once.  Leave  them  till  later." 

"  No,  sir,  it  is  better  that  they  should  be  all  arranged  be 
fore  you  go.  I  do  not  mind  the  effort  of  undertaking  it  at 
once." 

"But  how  do  you  know  I  am  going?  Why  wil1  not  a 
few  weeks  hence  do  as  well  ?" 

"  Why,  sir,  as  I  told  you,  I  should  prefer  that  everything 
were  settled,  the  papers  arranged,  the  house  vacated,  be 
fore  you  go  abroad.  It  may  make  no  difference,  but  it  will 
be  more  agreeable  to  me." 

"  I  am  not  going  abroad  ;  I  do  not  intend  to  leave  Ame 
rica  again.  Can  you  not  be  contented  to  let  things  rest  as 
they  are  at  present,  and  to  let  me,  in  some  degree,  take  the 
place  of  him  you  have  lost  ?  Consider,  you  are  homeless 
and  friendless — you  have  no  one  to  direct  or  guide 
you  " 

"  I  have  considered  this,  sir,  more  fully,  perhaps,  than 
you  have.  There  is  not  a  circumstance  in  my  fate  that  I 
have  not  weighed.  Indeed,  I  do  not  need  so  much  pity; 
your  attention  has  just  been  called  to  it,  and  so  it  sounds 
new  and  dreadful  to  you  for  a  woman  to  be  left  so  alone. 
But  I  am  used  to  the  idea,  and  I  do  not  mind  it.  People 
will  be  kind  to  me,  no  doubt,  and  I  shall  do  very  well." 

"  Then  you  are  resolved  to  go  away  from  here  ?" 

"  Within  a  fortnight,  sir." 

"  And  you  refuse  all  offers  of  assistance  from  me,  of  all 
kinds  ?" 

"  Why,  sir,  you  know  it  would  be  useless  to  trouble  you, 
when  I  do  not  need  any ;  but  I  hope  you  understand  that 
I  am  very  grateful  for  your  goodness." 

"  I  understand  it  fully,  and  that  you  decline  any  further 
demonstration  of  it.  But  if  you  have  no  scruple  against 
telling  me  where  you  intend  to  go,  perhaps  it  would  bo 
wiser  to  do  it,  as  some  cases  may  occur  which  you  cannon 


502  BUT  LEDGE. 

foresee,  in  which  it  would  be  safer  for  yea  to  havvj  the 
judgment  and  advice  of  one  whose  age  and  experience 
place  him  above  you  in  knowledge,  of  the  world,  at 
least." 

"  It  would  be  impossible  for  me  to  tell  you,  sir,  for  I 
do  not  know  in  the  least  where  I  shall  go.  You  know 
I  have  not  had  time  to  arrange  my  plans  definitely — it  is 
only  two  days — since — since — I  have  had  to  think  about 
them." 

"And  you  will  not  take  more  time,  and  put  off  any 
change  for  a  few  months — you  will  not  let  me  advise  you  ?" 

"  Mr.  Rutledge,  you  are  trying  to  make  me  seem  rude  ; 
I  have  but  one  answer  to  make,  and  it  sounds  so  ungracious 
you  are  not  kind  to  oblige  me  to  repeat  it." 

"  I  will  not ;  I  believe  I  understand  how  you  wish  it  to 
stand ;  and  perhaps  you  are  right.  It  is  not  necessary  to 
detain  you  longer,"  he  continued,  rising,  "  there  is  nothing 
of  importance  left  to  say,  I  believe.  About  the  books  and 
furniture,  I  should  prefer  having  them  left  for  the  present 
in  the  house ;  I  will  not  trouble  you  to  do  anything  but  to 
send  the  keys,  when  you  leave,  to  my  house.  Mrs.  Roberts 
will  take  charge  of  them.  The  papers  I  can  look  over  at 
my  leisure.  In  regard  to  the  servant  you  spoke  of— I  will 
mention  her  to  Mrs.  Roberts,  and  will  see  that  she  is 
provided  with  a  situation.  Is  there  anything  more  ?" 

"  Nothing  that  I  remember  at  this  moment,  sir.  You 
are  very  kind  ;  I  shall  endeavor  to  leave  everything  in  the 
order  you  would  wish." 

"  I  do  not  doubt  it ;  I  hope  you  will  be  able  to  bear 
whatever  you  intend  to  put  upon  yourself,  but  you  will  do 
well  not  to  overtask  your  strength  or  fortitude  just 
now ;  you  are  not  at  present  fit  for  exertion.  But  I 
forget " 

I  rose,  and  held  out  my  hand  ;  he  went  on  :  "  You  know 
you  have  always  my  best  wishes ;  here  is  no  need  for  me 
to  say  that." 


BCTLEDGE.  608 

"  I  know  it,  sir,"  I  replied,  with  what  steadiness  of  voice 

I  could.  "  I  >vish  I  could  tell  you  how" but  the  words 

choked  me.  He  did  not  relinquish  my  hand,  but  with  a 
sudden  change  from  the  cold  tone  of  his  last  words,  he 
exclaimed  Imrriedly,  and  with  a  smothered  vehemence  : 

"  You  wish  you  could  tell  me  what  ?  You  wish  you 
could  tell  me  what  I  already  know — could  tell  me  that  you 
pity  me — that  you  are  sorry  for  the  pain  you  give  me  ? 
That  you  know  how  much  it  costs  me  to  say  a  final  farewell 
to  you — and  that  you  are  sorry — sorry.  No !  You  need 
not  wish  to  do  it ;  I  can  spare  you  that.  I  came  to  you 
to-night  to  see  if  time,  and  sorrow,  and  necessity  had  not 
helped  me  in  my  suit ;  to  try,  for  the  last  time,  whether 
there  was  any  chance  of  winning  you;  I  came  to  tempt 
you  by  the  fortune  and  the  luxury  I  could  offer  you,  just  to 
endure  my  love,  and  to  repay,  by  ever  so  cold  a  kindness, 
the  devotion  of  years.  I  came,  misled  by  a  hope  held  out 
by  one  who  loved  us  both  too  well  to  be  an  impartial 
judge  ;  and  I  find  you  colder,  more  distant  than  ever,  and 
that  the  hope  I  have  been  trying  to  extinguish  so  long  is 
only  rekindled  to  be  quenched  at  last  utterly ! 

"  Feolish  girl !"  he  went  on,  in  a  lower  tone,  "  how  little 
you  know  what  you  throw  away.  How  vain  to  cling  so 
fondly  to  a  memory.  Believe  me,  it  will  not  be  wronging 
the  dead — I  little  thought  I  should  ever  stoop  to  ask 
it,  but  only  try  to  love  me — only  consent  to  give  me  your 
esteem  and  consideration,  and  I  will  take  the  risk  of  teach 
ing  you  to  love  me.  Is  it  nothing  to  be  loved  as  I  have 
loved  you?  To  be  the  first,  and  last,  and  only  choice  of  a 
man  who  has  had  so  many  to  choose  from?  Have  you  no 
vanity  that  can  be  touched — no  pride  ?  If  you  had,  I  could 
allure  you  by  the  promise  that  you  should  be  proud  of  the 
position  you  would  hold  ;  those  who  have  slighted  you 
should  look  at  you  with  envy — those  who  " 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Rutledge  do  not  talk  of  those  things  now — I 


504:  RUTLEDGE. 

have  given  them  up  forever ;  I  shall  never  care  again  for 
the  world — but — there  is  something  else — I " 

'*  You  relent !"  he  murmured,  eagerly.  "  You  will  con 
sent  to  forget  the  past — you  will " 

"  I  must  tell  you  one  thing  first ;  I  must  tell  you  some 
thing  that  I  have  told  to  no  one  else.  Heaven  have  mercy 
on  me  if  it  is  a  sin,  or  if  I  am  betraying  what  I  should  still 
conceal.  I  never  felt  the  love  you  think  I  did.  I  deceived 
him  and  you ;  but  as  I  have  been  bitterly  punished,  and 
bitterly  penitent,  so  Heaven  forgive  me  for  it !  Between 
him  and  me  there  was  another  love,  that  began  before  I 
ever  saw  him — that  is  not  ended  yet — that  has  never  known 
change  or  wavering." 

"  And  that  love  ?" 

Within  his  arms,  my  face  hidden  on  his  shoulder,  I  could 
whisper  the  answer  to  that  question,  and  the  confession  cf 
the  folly,  and  deceit,  and  pride,  that  had  so  long  kept  r»i 
from  him. 


UNIV.  DF  CALIF.  LIBRARY,  LOS  ANGEL 


"•••  mil  in ii  HID  f  [if  i  niii  |[[|  j|| 

A     000138863     6 


